


You Look Familiar Like My Mirror

by Lauralot



Series: Daddy Issues [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Existential Crisis, Gen, Magical Accidents, Multiple Personalities, Non-Sexual Age Play, Panic Attacks, Self-Hatred, Separate bodies, Suicidal Thoughts, alexander pierce should have died slower
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-04-20 17:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 59,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4796900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once he saw a video on Tasha’s computer about people making candy.  They shoved the taffy on these hooks and pulled and pulled, stretching it out until they tore it to pieces.</p><p>He thinks it hurts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, ravenously and I explore an idea that I was given in an ask about what would happen in the APSHDS fic universe if Bucky's mindsets became separate people. I wrote James and Steve's points of view, and ravenously wrote Bucky's, Winter's, and Tony's.

The bears are on a special mission to rescue Iron Bear. He got kidnapped by some scorpions who want him to build weapons, and the other Bearvengers are racing across the desert to save him. On the way, they encounter a sphinx, an army of cobras, and sand pirates. Now, bruised and leaking stuffing, they barge into the cave to save their friend.

Iron Bear is sitting in a makeshift Iron Bear suit, surrounded by unconscious scorpions. “Took you long enough,” he says. Actually Bucky says it, but he’s good at imitating Tony’s voice.

Captain Ameribear frowns. “We had to cross a desert on foot to rescue you!”

“Without shoes,” Hawkbear adds. He lost his boots to a particularly aggressive cactus.

Iron Bear shrugs. “You took too long. So I built a suit.”

“You’d better have built us a ride home,” Bear Widow snaps. Actually Daddy’s doing her voice, but he does a surprisingly good imitation of Natasha.

Bucky is about to have Iron Bear go off into a long speech about how they should be grateful that he’s still alive, ending with a mention that he made them a plane, but before he gets the chance, he’s interrupted.

Not by Daddy; Daddy hasn’t said anything. He doesn’t usually speak out of turn unless it’s time for dinner or something. And not by Jarvis or anyone else coming in. Bucky doesn’t know what happens. There’s a light, so sudden and bright that it hurts his eyes, and there’s a _feeling_. Bucky doesn’t know how to describe it.

Once he saw a video on Tasha’s computer about people making candy. They shoved the taffy on these hooks and pulled and pulled, stretching it out until they tore it to pieces. It’s like that. It’s a stretching. He thinks it hurts, but it’s so far from anything he’s ever felt that he can’t be sure.

He can’t be sure of anything. Suddenly, there’s too many thoughts in his head.

\--

There’s a joint… _collection_ of three thoughts. All at once, all together. Right before the stretching. It’s subtle, but it’s so _loud_ all at once. Forgettable once the stretching occurs. Then the thoughts are all separate. Maybe?

It’s all so confusing.

Maybe it’s seconds. Minutes. Years? It could have been an eternity, entire galaxies spawning and growing in the time the stretching takes to finish, in the time the pain and tearing and the _ripping_ and the reforming takes. It’s so unique, so- Encompassing, that he doesn’t know how long. Maybe he _is_ the galaxy being born, but that’s such a- That’s too complex of a thought.

Especially for right now.

Right now should be dedicated to finding himself, figuring out who he is, what he is… If he’s human or not, and after the pain and roar in his head dies down, the Asset is able to confirm that no, no he’s not human. Not really- Barnes isn’t there, the child isn’t lurking just beneath the surface of his thoughts like usual ( _be good, be good_ ).

He’s lying sprawled, naked, in in the middle of the floor. Everything hurts, everything is _painful_ and excruciating, but that’s… that’s normal. Or it was, once. It hasn’t been in months, and he wants the pain to _leave_ , but… At least it’s familiar. _Normal_.

It takes a moment to collect himself, to figure out where his limbs are, how to _move_ , but when he does, he sits up, looking around. Trying to figure out what happened, what he needs to prioritize. What’s the threat, what he needs to save and destroy and-

The Asset stops, staring.

There’s- He’s sprawled across the floor, but it’s not _him_. It’s just. Someone who looks like the Asset. But the Asset knows for a fact there was only one of him. In all manners of the word. But this isn’t him. It just looks like him. Only- Shorter hair. No arm. This other body isn’t HYDRA’s. There’s none of the telltale signs.

And when the Asset looks across from himself, he sees a small child, clambering onto Rogers’ lap. It’s-

None of this makes sense. The Asset freezes and stares and- Waits. Waits for someone or something to tell him what to do, what’s going _on_.

\--

It hurts.

Everything _hurts_ , the way it hasn’t since he stopped being an asset. Since he limped away from the Potomac, all beaten and strangled, with his arm out of joint. And he’s _tired_ , so tired, the way he used to be after the doctors in HYDRA made him do their endurance tests. For a second, it’s all he can do just to lie there, trying not to cry.

That doesn’t work.

He’s off-balance when he sits up. Bucky’s always off-balance--the metal arm is way, way heavier than the other--but this time he’s off-balance the wrong way. It’s his right side that feels heavier, not the left.

Bucky looks down, and his metal arm is gone.

He’s too stunned to draw in the breath to scream. Can HYDRA take their arm back? Is that why it hurt so much? They triggered something and his arm pulled and stretched until it ripped off? But there would be blood and there isn’t--

There’s a gleam at the corner of his eye. Metal.

Bucky turns his head just a little and freezes, staring at his own arm. It’s not just lying there. It’s attached to somebody, somebody sitting up.

HYDRA took his arm away and gave it to a new Soldier, and now that Soldier’s going to hurt him really, really bad. Bucky’s crying hard now, throwing himself into Daddy’s lap. He should be braver--he should do what Bucky Barnes is supposed to do and protect Captain America--but he hurts so much and everything seems so big and he just _can’t_.

\--

There’s a one-armed child propelling himself into Steve Rogers’ lap, and an unconscious doppleganger of the Asset himself. There’s nothing- He doesn’t _understand_. He normally doesn’t, but… Even more than usual.

There’s a dormant urge to throw himself into Rogers’ lap as well. It’s fleeting and fading, like some thought he _used_ to have. Used to have before- Before the consciousness of the child left him. He zeroes in on the _actual_ child and frowns, eyes wide and trying to _understand_ , but before he can do anything, there’s a sudden burst of sound.

Mainly, something that sounds like, “Jesus fucking _Christ_ , what the _fuck_ , shit fuck, damnit, _fuck_!” The Asset jerks his head to the doppleganger, watching him sit up and flinch, clearly in pain. Short, messy hair and- Yes. Just like the Asset, only no silver arm.

“What the _fuck_.” The man says as soon as he zeroes in on the Asset, then on the child, finally landing confused, pained eyes on Rogers.

\--

“ _Bucky_.” Daddy doesn’t say it as much as he breathes it, and Bucky can’t answer, pushing tighter against his daddy’s body, as though he could burrow under his shirt and hide there until the other Soldier goes away. That doesn’t seem as ridiculous of a plan as it should right now; Daddy feels so _big_. Bucky must be having a panic attack. He can’t have a panic attack now, he has to help. He tries to breathe like the therapists taught him, but his lungs won’t listen.

“Bucky,” Daddy repeats. He’s not holding like he usually does. Of course not. He needs to fight and Bucky’s in the way. “Bucky--I--you--there’s--” Daddy’s hands clasp onto Bucky suddenly, like he’s just realized that he’s there. “What’s going _on_?”

“ _Help_ ,” is all Bucky can manage, the word buried against Daddy’s shirt.

“Jarvis.” Daddy sounds frantic, scared as Bucky feels, but there’s something else in his voice and Bucky can’t place it. “Jarvis, what the hell _happened_?”

There’s a pause. Bucky can’t hear the Soldier moving around.

“I am not sure, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis says finally.

“That makes two of us,” Daddy mutters, and Bucky can’t help but whimper again.

\--

“Who’s the- The kid and. _Fuck_ , Steve, something _weird_ just happened.” Which is an understatement, and Barnes knows it, but it’s a little hard to think in a straight line right now. He runs his fingers through his hair, staring at the Asset for another second before- Right. If it’s. If it’s actually _him_ , the killer, the Soldier, then-

He jerks, practically flying across the room to get closer to Steve, to shield him. In case. “Don’t fucking trust _him_. He’s dangerous.” Nothing else to say. Except _get away_.

\--

That voice. Bucky knows that voice, but he isn’t sure where he knows it. His dad, maybe? His daddy back before he fell, before he was HYDRA’s or the Avengers’.

Bucky raises his head just enough to look over Daddy’s arm. He wishes he had Bucky Bear to squeeze. The bears are all sprawled over the floor now. He’s not sure where Bucky Bear even is. What if HYDRA took him, too? His last daddy wouldn’t let him hold the bunny if he was misbehaving.

Someone’s moving toward them fast. Bucky flinches--Daddy’s arms tighten around him--but then he just stares, mouth hanging open. That’s _him_. The old him, the one who only lives in pictures and newsreels.

And the one with his arm: that’s him too. The way he looks in mirrors.

He looks as lost and confused as Bucky always feels, and suddenly Bucky almost wants to hug him.

“I don’t--” Daddy’s shifting. Bucky thinks he’s looking around. “I don’t know what this _is_.”

\--

“I think- I mean.” Barnes’ voice croaks, still pained for a moment, but he clears it after a second and continues, “Something hit us. We’re- Three of us.” he frowns severely and looks from Steve to the child. “And my fucked up head spawned _these_ two.”

He looks back at the Asset, and after a long, slow blink, the Asset gives a short, confused nod. That makes sense. Maybe.

“If- If that’s true, then that’s the fucking- That’s the. _Him_. And that’s the kid.” Bucky blinks and frowns, because it’s insane, but even if it’s insane, it’s true and. It might not… Be bad. Because if they’re out _there_ , in the world, separate from him, then he’s _free_ of their influence. Maybe.

\--

“But _how_?” Daddy’s voice cracks. Bucky can’t tell if he’s sad or scared. Maybe both.

Bucky wishes he could answer him, but he doesn’t know what happened. He was just playing, and it wasn’t even a bad game. And then this. He looks at the old Bucky Barnes, the real one, but that Bucky’s just looking at Steve. And the Asset just looks confused. And alone. The real Bucky’s blocking him from Daddy.

“Jarvis,” Daddy says. Now he sounds hoarse. “Are we under attack?”

There’s a bear next to Daddy. Bucky tries to grab it, but one arm is gone and the other’s a lot shorter than it ought to be. He has to flop over in Daddy’s lap and strain just to touch its paw.

“I cannot detect any intruders, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis says. “Nor is there any structural damage from an external weapon. However, I am detecting a high, unfamiliar energy surge within this room.”

Bucky manages to drag the bear toward him. It’s the Thor Bear, with Mjölnir strapped to his hand. Bucky Bear always liked Thor’s hammer.

Bucky thinks Daddy’s talking again, but he’s not paying attention, throwing the bear to the Asset. He shouldn’t have to sit by himself.

\--

The thud of one of the bears against his arm is distracting, and the Asset jerks down to stare at the stuffed animal. It’s the one designed to look like the god Thor, and for a moment, he almost takes it as a threat, as though the child is threatening to hurt him with _Thor_ , but. But the child has no ability to threaten _him_.

So he picks the bear up, and some fading impulse has him squeeze the plush toy, taking a small amount of comfort in how it feels. The impulse, the innate feeling that this is something safe is fading fast, but for the moment? It’s what he needs.

Though he’s no less confused. He looks back at the child, zooming into his facial features. The doppelganger- The older, _real_ Bucky- said he was the kid. Pierce’s child. Which makes the doppelganger the Barnes before the war and him just- Just the Asset.

“I… I will not. Hurt you.” He says, slowly, cautiously, looking at the defensive way Barnes is staring.

\--

“I know,” Daddy says, and for a second his voice is steady. But then he’s stammering, tripping over words. “We--we need--” The uncertainty, more than anything, more than looking at the old him or missing his arm, makes Bucky shake. Daddy’s not supposed to be like this. He always knows exactly what to do, even if Bucky’s crying or holding a knife to Daddy’s throat. He shouldn’t sound so lost. “We need to see Tony. Or Bruce. Find out _what_ happened. Find out if this is--”

He doesn’t say permanent, but Bucky knows that’s what he’s thinking. What if it _is_ permanent? Tony won’t want the Asset around. Nobody will. But Bucky can’t just let him go off all alone. He’ll be lonely. And HYDRA might find him.

And if this is permanent, then Daddy’s Bucky is right there. Why would Daddy still want him when his best friend is back? Daddy’s Bucky probably doesn’t have nightmares or need bedtime stories or do anything annoying. Daddy’s going to like him best, and maybe he’ll make Bucky leave with the Asset.

The last thing Bucky wants to do is cry. That’ll only prove that the Old Bucky is better. But he can’t help it.

\--

Barnes takes another look at the three men- one a boy , really- around the room and then gives a slow, casual shrug. he sits back, away from Steve, because clearly the man doesn’t need protecting from _him_. “I hope it’s permanent.” Is all he says, low and gruff because- because.

He’s free. If this is permanent, then he doesn’t have to be a bed-wetting _idiot_ and he doesn’t have to fear that the devil himself will appear to kill all of his friends and family. They’re outside forces and he’s free, and already their influence, the pressure on both sides of his mind, are relinquishing their hold on him. He huffs out a breath, looking to Steve. “Sure makes things a helluva lot easier.”

\--

“Hey,” Daddy says, shifting Bucky in his arms so that Bucky’s head is resting on his shoulder. “Hey, no--don’t cry. It’s okay, B--honey. It’s okay. We’ll work this out. Promise.”

Nothing’s okay, but Daddy’s arms are big enough to cover up his whole body now, and Bucky likes that. It feels safer than it ever did when he used to be half-hanging off of Daddy’s lap. Bucky squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying to enjoy it while he still can. Trying to remember every detail before he’s sent away.

“Jarvis,” Steve says. “Can you get Tony up here? It’s an emergency.”

“Right away, Captain Rogers,” the AI answers.

“Here,” Daddy says. Bucky’s not sure who he’s talking to. “Do you want to get dressed? Are you all--does it hurt?”

\--

“It did.” The Asset says slowly, easily, still holding the Thor bear like it’s a lifeline. It feels like a gift, and that’s- That’s a rare enough thing. “It’s fine.”

Barnes looks to him, vaguely incredulous. “It felt like _dying_. Just saying. Not anymore, we’re fine now, and at least the kid looks fine, but yeah, no. He’s understating things.” He shakes his head. “Clothes are good. Would rather not look at my own-” he looks over at the kid before saying it, giving an uncomfortable cough.

\--

He’s _naked_. Bucky had been too busy being scared about his arm disappearing and getting cut up into three people to realize that he doesn’t have any clothes either. He cries again, loud, trying unsuccessfully to pull Daddy’s shirt around himself. He doesn’t want to be naked. Anything could happen if he’s naked.

“Hey,” Daddy says, kind of rocking him. “It’s all right.” Then Daddy’s moving, carrying him toward the dresser. “I’ll get you something.” He searches through a drawer, pulling out what used to be one of Bucky’s undershirts. Now it’ll probably fit him like a dress.

“There,” Daddy says, putting it in his hand. “Do you need help getting dressed?”

 _No!_ Bucky wants to say, but he can’t remember ever getting dressed without his arm. “Uh...uh-huh.”

Daddy sits him on the bed, getting the shirt over him just as Tony knocks.

\--

The knocking really doesn’t matter- Tony walks in regardless a couple seconds later, looking confused and just a _little_ panicked. Jarvis really only got out ‘It’s an emergency, sir’ before Tony was leaving his lab and getting up to Steve’s floor as fast as fucking possible.

So it’s maybe more of a surprise than it should have been, and he just stutters out, “Okay, I don’t get paid enough for my life to turn into an episode of Orphan Black. Just saying.” Because there’s Barnes, sans arm, baby Barnes, sans arm, and Murder Barnes, with the nice murder arm to boot, and that’s just about three times too many Barnes’.

Murder Barnes- The Asset, clearly- just stares at him with a vaguely disinterested look (and definitely a little defensiveness, which. Weird.), and the one with short hair just snorts, turning to look at him before slyly trying to cover up his crotch because, oh yeah. Of course. They’re all _naked_ because that’s how Tony’s life is going. Of course.

\--

As soon as the shirt’s on, Bucky wants to jump off the bed and hide behind Daddy. Tony already sounds annoyed, and it’s only a matter of time before he decides there are too many Buckys and makes two of them leave. It won’t be the Old Bucky. The Old Bucky’s the real one, and he probably doesn’t make a mess every time he sleeps or cry when he touches knives.

He doesn’t hide behind Daddy, though, because Daddy’s so _big_ now and Bucky doesn’t want to get stepped on. Instead he just wraps his arm around Daddy’s waist and clings.

That must be bad, because Daddy sighs. “I have no idea what’s going on.” He looks worried, and he’s running his fingers through his hair over and over. “I was just--we were playing with Bucky’s bears and then _this_ happened. It has to be some sort of weapon, right?”

\--

“I mean, it has to be. There’s, like, no way this would just happen. J? Scan the room and? I don’t know. See if there’s weird-” He flaps a hand, clearly not finding the words he wants to say. “-Energy.”

“There is a large amount of unfamiliar energy in the room, sir.”

“Well, try to figure it out.” And then Tony’s moving into the room some more, looking at the three Bucky’s before going, “Not only did it split the three of you apart, but it’s- Whatever it was found enough matter to create _three_ of you. And to make the five year old literally _five_. Maybe it can multiply biotic matter, but clearly it can’t do it to non-organics. Since there’s only one arm. Of course, Murder Barnes gets it. Because why not. Whatever it is, it’s sophisticated enough to- To create three sentient _beings_. Somehow. See, if we made three different arms? I might be a little more help. Metal. I understand metal. Organic _people_? Litttttttle out of my expertise.”

He rolls his eyes, as the older Bucky mouths ‘Murder Barnes?’ to Steve. He’s clearly way more at ease than he should be, but… Well. It makes sense to Tony. If he were attached to a child and the world’s greatest assassin, he’d be happy to be apart from them, too.

\--

“How do we know this is _stable_?” Daddy asks. “That they won’t all--they won’t merge back somehow or--” Then he stops, glancing down at Bucky and stroking his hair. “How do we know these bodies can sustain themselves?” He looks and sounds as worked up as Bucky feels.

“Should we take them to the lab? Make sure there aren’t any physical--” Then he stops, looking at the Asset. The Asset doesn’t like doctors, and neither does Bucky. But if he doesn’t behave, Tony’s going to make him leave. Or worse, his body could fall apart. He could _die_.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky whispers, as if that fixes anything. This isn’t even his fault, how could it be, but he can’t keep the words from spilling out. He’s so used to saying them. “I’m really, really sorry.”

“Hey,” Daddy picks him up, squeezing tight. “We’re gonna fix this.”

But the Old Bucky doesn’t want to, and Daddy likes him best.

\--

“No, we… Definitely should do some tests.” Tony says, looking away from Steve and Baby Barnes to look at the Asset. “But maybe. Modified tests.” He looks over at the original Bucky and even he’s looking a little uncomfortable. Depending on how much _Bucky_ there is of him, that makes sense; after all, ‘lab’ might be synonymous with ‘little tiny torture lab table and German accents.’ Which is probably not the most pleasant of memories.

“I’ll have to call some people and- Maybe Bruce knows some more about this. I mean, ‘weird body things’ is pretty up his alley, maybe. Especially depending on what J decides this weird energy is.” Tony looks about two seconds away from going into long complicated jargon, blinking rapidly and talking quickly with his hands, looking less and less at the men in the room and more at- Well, nothing.

\--

“Could it be Asgardian?” Daddy asks. He sounds desperate, and Bucky hopes it’s Asgardian. Everything’s all split up and nothing makes sense and at least Thor’s world is kind of familiar.

He tries not to look at Tony so he won’t keep thinking about labs and tests and sharp, painful needles. The bears are still scattered all over the floor, and he wants Bucky Bear so badly he aches. But the Asset always liked to play as Bucky Bear. And now that the Asset’s a person, what if hugging Bucky Bear won’t help?

Maybe he could hug the Asset. But Bucky’s not sure if the Asset even knows how to hug.

\--

“It could? I don’t know. But calling Thor is a good idea. Or an Asgardian scientist or…. Well, whatever they call them over there. It’s worth a shot. Uh. I can bring- I can bring some stuff up here, no lab, so we can. Make sure they’re stable? There’s no pain, right?” He looks at the three, slightly worried. Okay, maybe more than slightly worried. He _does_ care about Bucky.

“It hurt at first, but… It’s just an ache. Like a growing pain?” Barnes says, shrugging. “I feel…. Stable, or whatever.” He looks at the Asset, and the Asset nods, agreeing.

“Dull pain. Leaving. Arm hurts.” Like it almost went to one of the _other_ Bucky’s. Like it almost got wrenched right off and went with the other body. Maybe the others would feel pain in that arm, too, if they had one.

Tony nods, looking just a tad uncomfortable when the Asset speaks. “Okay. So. There was pain. Now it’s almost gone. Yeah, I can bring up stuff from the lab. We can stay, uh, here. Jarvis can do a lot, too. Y’know.”

\--

“It’ll be okay,” Daddy promises. Bucky’s not sure who he’s talking to. “We’ll figure this out. I promise.” But he’s frowning, mouth twitching like he wants to bite his lip. “You, uh, you can finish getting dressed, if you want. That shouldn’t get in the way of any tests, I don’t think, we can call Thor--”

The Asset said that his arm hurts. Bucky frowns, squirming in Daddy’s arms so he can get back on the bed. His metal arm hurts all the _time_ , or at least it did when he had one. It was heavy and it hurt where it joined on, and he could always feel it. If the Asset’s saying his arm hurts, it must really hurt.

“What are you--” Daddy says once Bucky wiggles free, but he doesn’t answer, running to the Asset--jumping off the bed is such a bigger distance than it used to be--and wrapping himself around the Asset’s leg, hugging as tight as he can with one arm.

\--

The Asset freezes when the child touches him, eyes going wide and darting towards Steve, as though- As though. He’s prepared for punishment. Steve likes the old Barnes and the young child. Not him. And he’s so protective of him, whenever he was the child that…. He’s afraid that Steve will punish him, and it will be Steve’s _right_. He shouldn’t tarnish the child. Especially now that he’s so… So pure. An actual child.

He tries not to make a sound, or move, or do anything that could potentially be mistaken as offensive movements to hurt Bucky.

It’s clear that this is _not okay_ when Barnes says, “Kid, what’re you _doing_?”

\--

“He said his arm hurts,” Bucky mumbles, his face pressed up against the Asset’s leg. He’s so _big_. Was Bucky ever this big? He never felt that size even though he must have been. The Old Bucky’s big too, but not the same as the Asset. The Asset’s wider. He seems more solid, somehow.

HYDRA had wanted the Asset to be the biggest and the best.

“I don’t want him to feel bad,” he says.

Daddy hugged the Asset when he first found him after the Asset got away from HYDRA. Why shouldn’t the Asset have hugs now?

\--

“My arm is. Fine.” The Asset says slowly, quietly, trying to get the child off of him. Even if he doesn’t want him to leave, wants to pick him up and hug him close to his body. Something small and innocent and _good_. Something the Asset can learn from, maybe.

“Uh, okay. I’m gonna go, and let you four just. Figure out how this family’s gonna work. Be back soon. Maybe later. Y’know what, I’ll let you know.” Stark sounds so awkward that the Asset nearly flinches. He caused this, and caused Tony to _leave_ too. He grows even more still once the man leaves the room, very nearly shaking.

Which is weak, and stupid, and idiotic and- Everything he shouldn’t do and shouldn’t be, but his glory days as the perfect Asset, the beautiful, pristine Soldier, have been sullied by the goodness of the consciousnesses that have grown in him since he came to the Tower.

\--

The Asset is trying to move him, but the Asset is so _tense_ and probably scared that nobody wants him either, and Bucky just clings tighter, fighting back a cry. He doesn’t want to make loud noises; he knows the Asset doesn’t like them.

“Hey,” Daddy says. His voice is close and Bucky thinks he must be kneeling down. “Hey, Bucky. Or--uh--Bucky, he’s okay. I promise.”

Daddy doesn’t know what to call him anymore, now that there’s three of them. And the Old Bucky is going to want his name. After all, it was his first. So Bucky won’t even have a _name_ anymore. He shuts his eyes tight, feeling tears squeeze out.

“Look,” Daddy says softly. “All your bears are still here. You can hug onto them, Buck. Or I can hold you, whatever you want. But let him get dressed, okay?”

Bucky Bear’s only a couple of feet from the Asset, and Bucky reaches out, grabbing his jacket and pulling him close. He almost drops the bear. His brain keeps trying to use the arm that isn’t there anymore.

“See?” Daddy asks. “You’re okay.”

But Bucky Bear just feels hollow now. Like stuffing and nothing else.

\--

The Asset locks onto the bear, the damned stuffed bear, his mind clicking into place. The child looks lost, confused and scared, and… And the bear won’t do anything for him. The bear doesn’t have wayward murderous thoughts or heinous observations anymore. It’s just an inanimate object. All of its consciousness, a product of psychosis or otherwise, is within its own body now.

It doesn’t feel fair, and the Asset wants to disappear, wants to float back into the child’s brain if only to give him back the small sense of comfort the stuffed bear used to have. For a moment, that almost feels like a good price to pay for making the child have to endure murderous thoughts again.

He- He’s slow. But after a moment, he leans down, movements jerky as he hold out the flesh arm sort of. Thoughts of nakedness and clothes aren’t even on his mind, so trivial. The Asset has been naked before. Is used to being stipped to the bare bones of his being while others watch. The child wanted a hug. Wants to hug Bucky Bear likely and squeeze it’s stuffing. But it won’t help. Maybe-

Maybe hugging the Asset will help him.

\--

It seems wrong to drop Bucky Bear, even if he’s all empty now, so Bucky holds onto him while he moves into the Asset’s arms. He feels himself being scooped up, held tight and safe but not hurting, and he smiles.

It’s still not right. There’s--there’s too much _space_ in his head now. Like when there’s Neapolitan sherbet and Clint and Tasha scrape out all the chocolate and strawberry so there’s just vanilla in the middle. It seems as cold as that, too.

But it’s better with the Asset holding him. Maybe the Asset can hold him forever. Maybe once the Old Bucky makes them leave, they can stay together. But it doesn’t seem fair to the Asset, having to hold him all the time.

“Bucky,” Daddy says, but he doesn’t say anything else. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe his head feels all hollowed out now too.

\--

Maybe the hug is wrong. Maybe he shouldn’t even _talk_ to the child, let alone touch him. But- But the hug feels so good, and he can feel the kid smiling, getting himself comfortable. Rogers might not understand the extent of his influence in Bucky’s head, not when they were together. Hell, maybe even the older, the original Barnes doesn’t understand the full extent of it. He was always awake, always narrating. It just was- Put off. Attributed to a child’s toy.

If he can’t be the safety blanket of a five year old, maybe he can at least hold him and comfort him. Even if. If he’s not entirely certain how to hug. How to comfort. But pulling him up in his arms, pulling him close to his neck? That seems like a good start.

Over the child’s back, he looks at Steve, waits to be punished or yelled at or- Or something worse.

\--

Bucky looks up when Daddy sighs. He’s running a hand over his face, and for a second he looks so old that Bucky thinks something’s happened to him as well. But it’s gone as fast as Bucky sees it.

“Okay,” Daddy says. Bucky doesn’t know who he’s talking to. “It’s--it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

When Daddy steps back, his legs hit the mattress and he sits down on the bed. “Just, one step at a time.” He’s not really looking at anyone, staring down at his hands. “We should--just get dressed, okay? Bucky--or-- _Christ_ , I don’t know what to call anyone.” His voice breaks, but Daddy shakes his head and then he sounds like himself again.

“You can wear that for now,” he tells Bucky, nodding to the undershirt that almost reaches his feet. “We’ll--we’ll get you clothes that fit. It’ll work out. Everything will.”

\--

Barnes has since tried to find the most- _normal_ clothes he could find. Which isn’t hard; at least the kid was _sometimes_ him. Usually him. He’s got his own clothes, but everything is- It’s confusing. He remembers everything, but he also- It’s like there’s a haze over any recent memory, like his brain wants to shoot back to the 1940’s and just stay there. Logically, it’s clear- His part of the body is _from_ that time period. But it just. Doesn’t make sense. He was standing in this room yesterday, as himself. And yet it’s hard to remember, to let that sink in.

So it takes a little longer than it should to put his damn clothes on, to _find_ them. But when he figures it out, it’s only the most comfortable clothes he can find. Soft jeans, and a henley to match. “Hey, Soldier? You wanna try hugging children to your chest when you’re _not_ ass naked?” They’re all the same, but it still feels a little weird. And Barnes’ is positive that the Asset won’t get dressed unless he’s given consistent guides, here.

Barnes grabs similar clothes as the ones he’s wearing, and, as if on cue, the Asset blinks and slowly puts the child back down to the ground, coming forward to take the clothes out of his hands. God, he’s been the Asset. He knows how it feels, he was him at one point, but it’s different looking at him. Seeing the damage behind all-too familiar eyes. Seeing the way his brain barely clicks along. Like even one thought is too many.

When he’s not dangerous, the Soldier is just.... Sad. Sad and lonely and an…. Aberration on the human race. No being should ever look as blank as the Soldier does- And this is the Soldier who’s destroyed much of his programming, who has way more personality than he used to have, even.

There’s too many emotions associated with the Asset, so Barnes turns away from him, focusing on Steve. “Kid probably needs a name. Asset is… Well, Asset. I can just be Barnes ‘till we figure this out.”

\--

“Asset?” Daddy repeats. He looks lost, lips moving even when he isn’t talking, like a fish. Bucky wants to go hug his leg now that the Asset’s busy getting dressed, but he wants to be there when the Asset’s done too. Doesn’t want him to feel abandoned. “Buck, we can’t just call him--”

“He should be Bucky,” Bucky whispers, pointing to the Old Bucky. “It was his name first.” He doesn’t want to give up his name, not ever again, but if he’s selfish, there’s no way the Old Bucky will want him around. “I can be something else.”

“James?” Daddy offers, crouching down to Bucky’s level. “Is James okay?”

James is what Pepper calls him when he’s a grown-up. He doesn’t want to be James. He wants to be Bucky. But he can’t be a baby right now; the stuff that’s going on is too important for him to be whining. “Okay.”

Daddy ruffles his hair and looks at the Asset. “What do you want to be called?” he asks.

\--

The Asset opens his mouth and closes it a few times. Confused. He doesn’t… Have a name. Other than the designations given to him by HYDRA to keep him in his place. “I… Anything you want.” There’s nothing else. He doesn’t hold the attachment to ‘James’ or ‘Bucky’ that the older and younger Barnes’ do. He doesn’t _deserve_ a name.

\--

Daddy’s face falls.

James wants to tug on his sleeve and tell him that sometimes Commander Rumlow called the Asset Winter, but he doesn’t think Daddy wants to use any of the Commander’s nicknames. And it would feel weird to call the Asset Bucky Bear now because he’s not a bear.

James is glad whatever split them apart didn’t turn the Asset into a grizzly or something. That would have been really bad.

“We’ll. We’ll think of something,” Daddy says, straightening up. His face is all pale, but he’s trying hard to make it look calm. “I--what should we do until Tony comes back?”

\--

Bucky looks at the Asset and then at James, and shrugs. “Food? I’m starving. Whatever it was that did this- Starving.” And he has a feeling the kid and the Asset wouldn’t just volunteer this information. It seems like he’s going to have to- He’s going to have to babysit both of them, make sure they’re doing what they need. He’s not sure how much of a _child_ James is, how much of the Asset’s training is still swirling in that tiny little head of his. Regardless, even if it’s none, it’s not like the kid was born out of innocent acts- The kid is almost as much of a Soldier as the Asset is. Just a different one.

Bucky’s the only one that can be trusted to understand them, both of them, to the extent that they need.

\--

“I don’t have to eat as much as normal, right?” James asks, shifting his weight from foot to foot. It’s a bad idea: his balance is all wrong now, and he almost falls over.

It’s really hard to get down enough food usually, and now he’s way smaller. He’s not sure if his tummy can even hold the smoothies that he always drinks anymore.

“No,” Daddy promises. “You can eat whatever you want.”

James nods, shuffling back to the Asset. He tries to tug on his pants to ask to be picked up, but it’s hard when he’s still holding Bucky Bear. And he guesses Bucky Bear should have some honey even if he’s not really alive now.

“Jarvis,” Daddy says. “Can you tell, uh, just...warn everyone else about this? So that no one freaks out if we run into them?”

\--

“Of course, sir. Would you like the floor to remain closed to anyone but Tony and yourselves?” The AI replies softly.

The Asset tries to ignore him, to shun the robot’s watchful eyes away from his mind. Instead he- He goes towards the child. James. He wants to be held again. He wants his bear, and Steve won’t pick him up, so he carefully does it instead. Lifts the boy up and pulls him onto his hip, so he’ll be comfortable.

\--

“Yeah,” Daddy says, and James lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He doesn’t think he could stand everybody coming in right now, all confused and loud and overwhelming. And he can just imagine Pepper towering over him, saying how cute he is.

James buries his face against the Asset’s shoulder. He can’t handle people right now. Or maybe not ever.

“Yeah, thanks,” Daddy says again, starting for the kitchenette. He keeps glancing back over his shoulder, like he expects them all to disappear. “Uh...is there anything you especially want?”

\--

“Whatever it is,” Bucky says, glancing to the Asset and then back to Steve, “Make sure there’s a lot of it.” He jerks a tired head towards the Asset, beckoning him to come with them. He’ll have to keep a close eye on the two of them, since they’re just- They’re practically one and the same.

The Asset follows, holding onto the boy, and Bucky can hear him murmur “It’s okay” once or twice to James. The thought of the Asset playing caregiver to James is…. Just funny, on multiple levels. Or horrifying. He’ll have to talk to Steve about. About how they all interact.

\--

“Are sandwiches okay?” Daddy asks, and James isn’t sure if he’s asking him, but he still nods. Sandwiches are easy. It’s just bread and whatever they want to put between it. It won’t be a lot of work and Daddy’s got enough to do, figuring out what happened and keeping them safe.

He looks up at the Asset, wondering what sort of foods he even likes. He can’t just eat honey anymore. Maybe the Asset will like the same things as him. Do they all like the same foods? It’s confusing and weird and James just wishes they could all be back to how they were so everything would make sense again.

\--

“Sure. Probably the easiest, huh? Want help?” Bucky would love nothing more than to send the Asset and the kid off to go and just. Talk to Steve. Alone. Relish in the fact that he can be _himself_ for the first time fucking… In seventy years. “We’ll probably need an entire loaf of bread, honestly.”

The Asset come to the kitchen table and slowly, jerkily sets James onto its top, making absolutely sure not to hurt him before straightening.

\--

James thinks back to the time Tasha said that he needed four cookies because his body used them up four times faster. But is that still true? The Old Bucky might have a body from before HYDRA made his metabolism weird. And James doesn’t even know what he is. He can’t be what Bucky was when he was five, or he’d have both arms. But is he still like the Asset? Does he still need to eat as much?

He doesn’t want to think about that. There’s too much else going on. Plus, he has to figure out how he’s going to hold a sandwich now that he only has one hand and it’s so small.

“Yeah,” Daddy says. “Thanks, Buck.” He doesn’t open any cabinets, though. He just stares at Bucky and takes a slow breath, like this is the first time he’s really seen him. “I--” Daddy says, and his voice sounds tight. “You’re...it’s like I never lost you.”

\--

Bucky pauses in looking for a loaf of bread to turn and look at Steve, smiling himself. Oh, no doubt he’s not as young and pretty as he was before the war- He’s fairly certain that’s going to stay in his head. After all, he was still Bucky, then. But- But he’s not the Asset. And he knows how much him turning into a fucked up five year old fucked up _Steve_ , too.

“Almost. Missing parts of myself.” He gestures to the lack of an arm, his smile turning more into a smirk. “I- Yeah. My head is. So, _so_ clear. Half of me knows that this is great, and the other half thinks it’s- 1942, all over again.”

\--

That doesn’t sound clear to James. What if Bucky starts to forget that it isn’t 1942? Does that mean the Asset is going to think he’s with HYDRA? Will James wake up all confused and looking for his last daddy? Or what if James forgets _everything_? He wasn’t a real little boy. What if he disappears?

But Daddy doesn’t seem to be thinking of any of that. He’s still staring at Bucky, eyes wet, but he’s smiling too. James never made him look happy-sad, just sad-sad.

And then Daddy says, “If only” and he’s hugging Bucky tight.

James feels sick, and then sicker for being jealous that his daddy’s finally happy. But he can’t help it, so he turns his head and looks at the Asset, because the Asset isn’t getting a hug either.

\--

The Asset watches Steve and Bucky hug for a moment and then focuses on James, frowning. “You’re sad.” He murmurs, quietly enough that it’s a private conversation. He doesn’t want to interrupt Bucky or Steve, doesn’t want to get in trouble for speaking out of turn. But he doesn’t want James to be sad, wants him to be _happy_. He doesn’t understand it, because James is just as much a tool as he was, but he feels like James shouldn’t _have_ to be.

\--

James shrugs. He shouldn’t _be_ sad. And it would be bad to complain. He’s never really talked about his feelings all that much unless he’s with his doctors. He’s never needed to. Bucky Bear always knew what James was thinking, because Bucky Bear was thinking it too. He misses that.

“Are you okay?” James whispers. He can’t feel what the Asset’s feeling anymore either.

\--

“Fine. You’re more important.” He holds out the silver arm slowly, in case James wants to come closer to him. “Can’t feel you anymore.”

\--

“That’s not true.” The Asset’s just as important. Daddy always gave Bucky Bear as many hugs as he gave Bucky. Setting his bear down, James tries to scoot on the tabletop so he can give the Asset as big of a hug as he can. He buries his face against the Asset’s shirt, trying to hide the way his breathing’s getting raggedy. He wants to feel the Asset again. And Bucky. He doesn’t want this.

But as soon as he’s clinging to the Asset, Daddy says, “Are you okay, James?”

If he complains, he’ll get thrown out. He’ll make the Asset sad. But he can’t keep his stupid mouth shut. “I don’t like this.”

\--

The Asset frowns more, and squeezes the child towards him. Not hard enough to hurt him, just enough to envelop him, try to calm him like the bear could. He looks to Steve, over James’ shoulder. And he- He understand the kid, then. None of them are used to having their own thoughts, being their own- their own people.

“It’s okay, James.” He says quietly, trying to sound- _normal_. He hasn’t spoken in so long, has only been thoughts, impressions. If he says the wrong thing, Steve will send him away, will punish him.

\--

But it’s _not_ okay. Not even when James feels Daddy’s hand on his hair, all soft and warm. Everything’s wrong and it’s making him shake.

“Hey,” Daddy says. “Hey, it’s all right. I know this is scary, but we’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“You’ll make us go away.” James sniffles. He can’t help it.

“No, James, I won’t ever--”

“You didn’t want to be a daddy!” Jerking his head up, James can’t stop the words coming out of him so loud and fast. “And you fought the Winter Soldier! And he won’t want us here!” He can’t even look at Bucky. “He doesn’t like us!”

He doesn’t. Back when they were all one person, when he was grown-up, he always felt so embarrassed about turning into some stupid kid. And that’s all James is. No one will want him.

\--

Bucky looks just about as uncomfortable as a man possibly can. “...James… No one’s going to send you away. Or the Asset. You’re safest here and- This is your home.” He looks between the child and then Steve, trying- Trying to understand when he doesn’t have all of their thoughts in his head. “I don’t wanna _be_ you. But- That doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

Which isn’t true. He’s wary of the Asset and wishes he didn’t exist. And the manner that the kid exists is so fucked up and pitiful, that he wishes either the past was gone, or the kid. But he’s not going to _say_ that, out loud. No way.

\--

James can’t stop shaking his head. “It’s _empty_.” They’re not three people now, they’re just one person all cut up. He keeps looking for their thoughts and feelings and there’s just...nothing. Like there’s no arm attached to him anymore. His doctors always say that he has a dissociative disorder, but not split personalities. He just...acts a little different in different situations.

He sniffs again, wishing the Asset wasn’t as close as he is. James is probably crying all over him. “It’s not right.”

“Here,” Daddy says, and he’s finally found a loaf of bread. “What kind of sandwich do you want? You need to eat. You all do.”

“Peanut butter and jelly,” James whispers. He doesn’t see how that will help at all.

\--

Bucky goes closer to Steve, to help him make some of the sandwiches. Better to do something with his hand then nothing at all. “Tony’s gonna come up and tell you that everything’s fine and perfect, James. Promise. This is a good thing. We all get to be our own people now. That’s _good_.”

\--

“But I don’t know how to be a person.” Neither does the Asset. They were never really people, just the parts of people that their handlers wanted them to be. It’s not fair. Why couldn’t he and the Asset stay together, at least?

“Where is Tony, anyway?” Daddy frowns at nothing in particular, digging around the pantry. “I thought he’d be quick.”

James doesn’t shrug because he’s busy being hugged by the Asset. He shuts his eyes and tries to hug back.

\--

“Probably procrastinating. Or else, he got side-tracked by something shiny in his lab that he _had_ to take apart.” Bucky says, flourishing the knife in the air as he speaks. It’s difficult to make a sandwich when he can’t even hold the bread. He’s trying to just pretend everything’s normal. That James isn’t a sentence away from a tearful tantrum and the Asset isn’t one trigger away from killing or- Well, he’s probably prone to tantrums, too. Who knows, at this point.

\--

Tony. Maybe when Tony comes back, he’ll be able to fix them. For a second, James almost smiles until he remembers that Bucky wants to be away from them. Bucky won’t want to go back together like they’re supposed to be. And what if it has to be everybody or nobody?

Daddy sets a plate down next to him. It’s a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut up into little triangles so James can pick it up easier. “There you go, honey.” He looks at the Asset. “What can I get you?”

\--

The Asset shrugs and pulls away from James, looking away from all of them. He doesn’t know- He never does. And the thought of _choosing_ something is- If he chooses wrong, he won’t get enough sustenance. And he’ll be punished. And if he chooses something too decadent, too much work, Steve will be angry. And he’ll be punished.

So he doesn’t say anything, and eventually, Bucky makes an audible noise of annoyance and goes, “You want a PB and J, too, Asset?” He holds out a plate to the Soldier, with a sandwich cut in half for him. The Asset takes it slowly and nods, then jerkily goes to sit down at the table.

He doesn’t like Bucky. But at least Bucky understands how to function as a human being, is _allowed_ to be a human being. That makes him the Asset’s better. All of them are- Steve, Bucky and James. Who the Asset will _not_ allow to also be an Asset. Never again.

\--

“Here,” Daddy says, and he gives James a napkin which is good, because even cut up into little pieces, James is still getting jelly all over his fingers. He misses his other arm. He misses everything. How can Bucky make sandwiches with just one hand like that? Didn’t he lose his arm just before he became the Soldier? He shouldn’t have much practice with it, but everything he does seems so natural and it’s just not _fair_.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

The Asset sits down and James nudges closer toward him.

“Jarvis,” Daddy says. “Any idea when Tony will be back?”

\--

There’s a pause for about twenty seconds, and then Jarvis’ tones float up, saying, “Sir will be up here in ten minutes, Captain. Is that acceptable?” The last part sounds almost sarcastic- Like Tony said that in a sneering and hurried tone and Jarvis is just repeating it.

Bucky snorts at it, and comes to sits across the other two, at the other end of the table. “The robot is sassing you, Steve. You gonna take that?”

\--

“Yes,” says Daddy, and he sounds so tired. But then he looks at Bucky and smiles. “But I’m plotting my revenge.”

The smile makes James feel like his tummy is filling with rocks instead of his sandwich. Daddy looks so happy when he looks at Bucky, no matter how tired he is. He doesn’t look disappointed or worried or any of the ways he _always_ looks.

Because now he has what he wants right here, without anybody else messing it up.

James doesn’t cry. All he says, sudden and whiny and without thinking, is “I want pants.”

\--

Bucky blinks, looking over at the child. And realizes that this is an actual _child_. He won’t be the fucked up adult pretending anymore. He won’t have the mental capacities, really, of an adult. He’ll be a five year old, with the urges and mood swings of a child, and the random thoughts of one too.

He’ll be prone to fits, and tears, and anger, and _opinions_. It sounds exhausting, but Bucky can’t help but smiling at him, giving a big nod. Sure, he never wanted the fucked up side of him to be a _real thing_ , but if it has to be, this is the best way. The child gets a chance to be a real…. Kid. And he’ll grow up, maybe, and have a chance to be autonomous, separate from the fucked up origins he had.

“We’ll all have to go get clothes. We’ll have Jarvis order some, and maybe we’ll go shopping for some too.” He needs pins and sewing kits to make his shirts more manageable- For the kid, too. They’ll need clothes sooner rather than later.

\--

James shakes his head hard, suddenly shaky and almost feeling as sick as he did right after they all split apart. “I don’t want to go shopping!” he says, loud and worried. “I’m too small now. I’ll get stepped on!”

He doesn’t see why that makes Daddy smile. He is small, really small, and he’s never walked around at this size before.

\--

“James. You realize that you’re actually _very_ visible and that lots of people have kids? No one’s gonna step on you, bug.” Bucky smiles at him, though, clearly kind of amused.

The Asset looks from the two smiling faces and says to James, “I will exterminate anyone who steps on you.”

\--

Daddy’s face goes pale and tight at that, like he isn’t sure if he should laugh or worry. James should be scared, he knows; he doesn’t want the Asset to be in trouble, and exterminating people definitely isn’t allowed.

But he feels grumpy that Daddy and Bucky are smiling and not caring that other kids are used to being small and James _isn’t_ , so he just nods. “‘Kay.”

\--

“You will be safe.” The Asset says stiffly, before taking a bite from his sandwich. Pretending he didn’t just displease Steve for something he said.

“Yes, you will. And you’ll have pants at the end of it. And shirts that fit you. Wouldn’t want you running around in my too-big shirts, now, would you? Gotta have some of your own belongings, right, bug?” Bucky smiles at him again, less amused and more just…. Getting into the role of caretaker. It comes ridiculously easy, and it makes Bucky’s heart swell- He would have thought he’d lost that sensitivity long ago.

\--

James frowns at the spot where he used to have an arm. No shirts are going to fit him now. It’s not fair that only the Asset gets an arm. Except maybe it is. The Asset didn’t have bears or memories or anything else to keep.

“You need stuff,” he says, squirming closer to the Asset without actually hopping off of the table and into his lap. “Lots of stuff.”

The Asset never got to do anything fun before. He had missions with their last daddy and after that he wasn’t allowed to do anything at all. Now he should be able to do anything he wants.

\--

“Stuff?” He blinks and looks down at the child, seeing him wriggle closer. It’s only logical to just pull him all the way over to his lap, settle him there. “I don’t require ‘stuff.’” But then he blinks and looks at all three people like _do I?_

\--

“But now you can do anything you want,” James protests. “You can have books or movies or puppies or video games or guns or anything you like!”

“Not guns,” says Daddy.

“You can play any kind of games you want,” James continues. Bucky Bear always liked to play games. The Asset’s probably really good at coming up with ideas still. “Or wear anything you like.”

But the Asset just looks more confused at that, and then Jarvis interrupts to say that Tony’s on his way.

\--

It’s only a half a minute before Tony is in the kitchen, strolling in with a tablet off one arm and his phone in the other, looking as though he’s reading both of them simultaneously. He all but stumbles into a seat and puts the tablet on the table and goes, “Okay, so pretty much… I have no idea. I mean, I got some scans from Jarvis, and I’ll probably need some blood to verify, but I _think_ it’s safe? It should be. Maybe. I don’t know. No radiation or anything, which is a good sign.”

\--

James slips out of the Asset’s lap, crouching down under the table. Except the table’s still too open underneath, so he scrambles beneath the legs of a chair.

“James?” Daddy asks. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t like needles,” he says at once. “None of us do.”

He can see Daddy’s chair scoot back, watching as he kneels down. “James--”

“I don’t want to.”

\--

Tony blinks and looks up from his charts and graphs and explanations, giving a small uncomfortable shuffle. “Well, we don’t need to do it right now. Just- Well, we can wait. If nothing bad happens, why look a gift horse in the mouth… Right?” If something messed up though, it’s obvious that he’ll need blood samples. But. He’s trying to at least be a _little_ comforting.

\--

“See?” Daddy says. “Everything’s fine, James. No one’s going to hurt you.”

But everything doesn’t _feel_ fine. He’s still kind of achey from before, he’s hungry but his tummy’s too worried to eat, nothing make sense and all the thoughts that used to be inside him to help are gone now, and Bucky and the Asset aren’t saying them outloud. “I’m sleepy,” he says.

Really, really sleepy, even though he’s only been awake for a few hours.

\--

“...You can sleep after you’ve eaten.” Bucky says, jabbing a finger to his plate of sandwich. “Okay?”

\--

James feels like he might cry. His eyes are wet and hot and he’s way too sleepy to eat, and why can’t Bucky understand that? Why is he the only one who’s tired?

He thinks he might cry, no matter how bad that is, but then Daddy’s picking him up and no matter how much he wriggles, he can’t get away.

“Just a little more, okay?” Daddy asks, rubbing James’s back. His voice is soft and it almost makes James forget that he’s sleepy and scared and that Tony’s staring at him. “Then you can lie down.”

He tries to reach out with a hand that’s not there and then he is crying. “I miss my arm.”

\--

“I can make you a new one.” Tony blurts, and hopes it’s the right sort of things to say. “For, uh, you too, Bucky. I can probably reverse engineer, uh… His arm, and figure out a way to make it work.”

Bucky nods, and flits a grateful look to Tony, then focuses on James. “But for now, we’ll have fun figuring out how to work with just one arm. It’ll be like a game. We’ll get good at it.”

\--

“It’s not fun,” James says stubbornly, pouting around the piece of sandwich he’s shoved into his mouth. “And his name is _Winter_ ,” he adds to Tony, because it’s not fair that Bucky and James have names when Winter doesn’t, and also because James wants to argue.

He jams another piece of the sandwich into his mouth.

\--

“Winter.” Tony blinks and looks to the Asset. “Your name is _Winter_?”

The Asset stares at him and then looks down at the child. He nods slowly. “Yes.” If James says his name is Winter, then sure. He’s Winter. “And the Asset.”

\--

James forces most of what’s left of the sandwich into his mouth, almost not chewing at all. The peanut butter seems really thick all of the sudden, and the jelly’s way too sweet. He has to make himself eat it.

“There,” he says. “I wanna lie down. _Please_?”

He can’t remember ever being this sleepy before, not even after missions. Not even when he couldn’t sleep at all when he first came here. How can such a small body get so tired?

\--

Bucky gives a small nod, glancing from Steve to the Asset. “Yeah, sure, bug. You can go lie down. You want me to lie down with you?” He’s tired himself, wouldn’t mind lying down and napping. And it would let him interact with the kid some more; he feels like the child doesn’t like him.

\--

James only shrugs. It’s hard to keep his eyes open at all. He just wants to be _asleep_ , and he doesn’t care who’s beside him. Maybe he can get Bucky on one side and Winter on the other. Maybe everything will be _right_ when he wakes up.

So he nods. “And I need my bears.” They must all be so confused. Except Bucky Bear, because Bucky Bear’s really mostly Winter now, and Winter’s the confused one.

\--

Bucky nods. “Sure thing. You can sleep with ‘em all.” He glances over at the Asset, and asks, “Are you tired?”

The Asset gives a slow shrug- Tiredness isn’t important, though it is true that he’s practically exhausted. And somehow, Bucky sees right through him and nods, says, “Then c’mon. James’ll probably want you close.”

\--

Somebody’s picking James up, and he thinks it’s Daddy because he feels two hands and neither one’s cold, but he doesn’t care as long as he can lie down. Hold onto his bears, squeeze onto Bucky and Winter, and just _hope_ that stuff’ll be right again when he opens his eyes. There’s a mattress beneath him suddenly, soft blankets pulled back and brushing his feet, and he thinks someone asks if he wants a story, but he doesn’t want a story. He just wants for stuff to make sense again, or to sleep forever if things won’t go back to normal.

He’s not even sure if anyone lies down beside him because he falls asleep so fast.


	2. Chapter 2

It’s surprising- The Asset hardly ever manages to sleep. Partially because he’s often not _awake_ to begin with, but even when he was… Sleep wasn’t a priority, and it absolutely wasn’t easy. And even the early days, in the tower, when he was himself, his sleep was riddled in nightmares and fear.

So he doesn’t expect, after this major fuck up, to sleep well. But all of a sudden, he wakes up, James’ hair tickling his nose, since the child is so wrapped up in his neck. He can tell, by the lighting and by the fuzz in his head that he’s been sleeping for at least a couple hours.

Surprising.

He sits up after a while, carefully moving the child so he won’t be disturbed.

\--

“Hey,” Steve whispers. It probably wasn’t the best idea in retrospect, sitting here and watching them sleep. The Asset might not take kindly to such an intrusion, and Steve doesn’t want to fight. But he couldn’t help himself. Bucky’s _here_. Whole, save for the arm he lost and whatever internal scars HYDRA carved. They’re _all_ here, and he couldn’t bear to leave them, worried they might all vanish as suddenly as they split. Steve can really hold James now, can give him the life a child ought to have.

And the Asset…

Steve isn’t sure yet what to make of the Asset.

“We got him some clothes,” Steve adds, tilting his head toward James. “So we can go buy more whenever everyone’s up.”

\--

The Asset nods and says, “He really wants pants.” Which is obvious- Steve was there when the child said it. But he doesn’t know how to address Steve. He knows that Steve doesn’t want him speaking to him like a gun to an owner. But that’s all he knows.

Looking at Steve sparks something inside him. Not as much as before, on the helicarrier- He doesn’t have Bucky inside him anymore, providing sharp jabs of _I remember, I remember_. It’s something different. Maybe remnants of Bucky within him, but he instinctively trusts Steve, instinctively wants to save him and protect him and be near him.

\--

Steve nods. He hopes they can just gauge the size of most of James’s clothes by sight; taking the kid in and out of changing rooms all day would be asking for a meltdown even if James didn’t like undressing in front of other people. And now that he’s missing one arm and has the coordination of an actual five year old, he’ll definitely need help getting dressed.

James shifts on the bed, eyes opening and then blinking against the light. He tries to sit up, but he moves like he wants to prop himself up with both elbows, and he ends up just falling back against the pillow. The kid looks to his counterparts on either side and frowns.

“We got you pants,” Steve says, like that makes this any less confusing for him.

\--

The Asset deftly pulls James onto his lap, righting his balance immediately. He hopes the child slept well, that his mind was free from any dreams or nightmares- Blank, dreamless sleep is what he deserves.

He glances over when Bucky sits up, the original Barnes’ hair a mess on his head and his eyes blinking sleepily. He’s scowling, like he didn’t want to wake up, and the Asset holds James all the tighter.

\--

“People are gonna look at us,” James says. He’s pushing his body back against the Asset’s chest as if he thinks he can burrow his way back in.

Steve stares at him, feeling as confused as Bucky looks, still half-asleep with his hair all tousled, like he never left the old Brooklyn apartment. “What?”

“They look like each other,” James says. He’s half-pouting, half-glaring at Bucky and the Asset, like this is all their fault. “And he doesn’t have an arm, and I don’t either. People will notice. They’ll think it’s weird.”

“No one’s going to bother you,” Steve tries to assure him. “It’s New York. They’ll mind their own business.”

\--

“Pro’lly think me’n the Asset are twins, or something. And you’re five. You look related to us, but it’s not _weird_.” Bucky yawns wide, staring at the tail end of his sentence, which causes some of the words to be distorted. His voice is lazy, carefree- Almost _none_ of the normal stress that colors his voice.

\--

“Everything’s weird,” James says, and Steve stands up before he can work himself back to tears again.

“We can get pretzels,” he tells James. “You like those. Here, want to see the clothes we got for you to go shopping in?” 

He holds out his arms, though he isn’t sure if the Asset’s willing to relinquish his hold. Steve almost never saw the Winter Soldier emerge when they were the same person. How disoriented must he be now that he doesn’t have any other frame of mind to react through? How scared?

“You can pick out the shoes you want to wear,” he tells the Asset, because the man seemed to do better when Bucky was bossing him around before.

\--

The Asset looks hesitant, but after Steve tells him what to do, he hands over the child immediately, putting him in Steve’s arms and sliding off the bed. They’re all going shopping. He’s going to be expected to _choose_ things. He glances at the child and decides he will ask James to pick things out for him. The child is good at deciding things. Will like picking things out for Winter.

Bucky tries to ruffle his hair back into a manageable heap, yawning again and going, “Wha- We’re going shopping _now_? Fuck, alright. Guess we _do_ gotta get a wardrobe set up.” And proper, size-appropriate things for James.

\--

“Bucky,” Steve says on reflex, because there’s a five year old in the room. But then, does James still have all his memories? He acts like it. And in that case, a curse word is far from the worst thing the kid’s been exposed to.

“Come on,” he says, carrying James to the living room. He feels so _light_ , so fragile, and Steve has the sudden, ridiculous fear that he could crush him just by hugging too firmly.

Jarvis had ascertained James’s measurements as best he could while the kid was all curled up on the bed, and Tony had put Pepper and Natasha in charge of picking clothes, insisting that they’d be better at it than he would. Which is probably true, since they didn’t get anything covered in Iron Man silk-screening.

There’s a pair of jeans with the waistband made of elastic because it’d be easier for a one-handed kid than a zipper. There’s a shirt with sleeves just long enough to cover James’s missing arm, but not to dangle in his way. The shirt has some sort of fuzzy sheep stitched onto it, and Steve wonders why they didn’t go with bears. He’d think there would be more bears on little boys’ clothes than sheep.

James just scowls. “Did Tony make an arm yet?”

“Not yet,” Steve says. “Here, I’ll help you get dressed.”

\--

The Asset chooses boots. After all, they’re useful, and he’s more comfortable in them than anything else. He ties the shoes deftly, then wanders back over to the couch, and says, “He will make you an arm.” Or _else_ , is left off the tail-end of that. But it’s true- The Asset will harm anybody who doesn’t cater to the child’s needs.

He deserves that much.

He looks over when he hears Bucky snorting, and scowls at the older Barnes. “Sorry,” Bucky says, “It’s just- Look, I know you. And I am you. So I know you honor-protecting a child is just. Ironic. Funny. Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry though, and his laughter seems more bitter than amused.

\--

“Bucky,” Steve says. The Asset displaying any traits that aren’t completely murderous is something that needs to be encouraged. Antagonizing him is just going to put everyone at risk.

“There you go,” he adds, helping James navigate his tiny hand through the armhole of his shirt. “And they got you shoes too, see? I’ll tie them.”

\--

Bucky raises his hand and shrugs. “Hey, fine. Sorry.” He doesn’t look sorry, though, and the Asset continues to glare at him. He respects Bucky, but he also dislikes him. Hates him with all his gut.

“Protecting James is important. He needs to be happy.”

\--

“You all need to be happy,” Steve corrects. He helps James slide the shoes onto his feet and decides they should get him some pairs without laces when they’re at the store. At least until the kid has two hands again. “And I’ll make sure that you are.”

And make sure the Asset doesn’t snap Bucky’s neck. That’s important too.

“Here,” he says. “Asset. Winter. Could you help James tie his shoes?” At least that’ll give him something to do besides be antagonized by his counterpart. “Bucky, are you planning to brush your hair, or are you just gonna go out looking like a bum?”

\--

“Shucks, Steve, why don’t you tell me what you _really_ think.” Bucky says, but does as he’s basically being told to do- He goes to the bathroom to clean up. It feels. Different. To actually care.

He didn’t clean himself up that often, even when he wasn’t five. It didn’t feel worth it- He rarely left the house, and his hair was almost always either a rat’s nest or done up for him from when he was five. He’s not used to giving a damn. In fact, he’s been practically living as though he were a tenant in his own body since he became Hydra’s, since he came home.

Bucky stares at himself in the mirror, takes in the short hair and the lined faced. Takes in the absence of innocence that the child gave him, the hard predatory lines that the Soldier gave him. He just looks tired now. Tired but… Less strained. He’s only thirty, but anyone who knows him would never think that he looked it.

He huffs and brushes his hair, then hurries back to the living room, where the Asset- Winter, maybe- is slowly and carefully tying James’ shoes. Like he’s some precious thing that can’t be handled too harshly. Which is true, of course, but still. It’s nice to see the Asset trying.

\--

“Are we driving?” James asks. He’s frowning, looking down at his shoes. Maybe they don’t fit just right. Or maybe he’s still worrying about being stepped on. Steve gets the feeling that they’ll be doing a lot of carrying him regardless. Clearly he has the same energy highs and lows as an actual five year old now, and even if he wants to walk, he might not be able to keep up.

“Probably,” Steve says. It strikes him that five year old bodies in this day and age are required to go in car seats. Great. Well, they can pick one up at a mall, and in the meantime, protecting James on the drive over can be the Asset’s job.

“Everybody ready?” he asks. He tries not to stare too long at Bucky. He has to focus on getting things accomplished, or Steve might just melt into a mess of emotions and stay that way all day.

\--

“Do I look more presentable to you, your highness?” Bucky asks, smoothing his hand over some of his hair and moving towards the door. He almost scoops James up, but decides that the Asset will like it better- Not to mention, Bucky would like control of his own arm.

The Asset scoops him up almost immediately, balancing him easily on his hip, and pulling him closer to his neck.

\--

“You look great,” Steve says without thinking. “I mean, for you,” he adds at once. “Grading on a curve and all.”

He needs to pull himself together. There’s no sense in losing himself to dreams of things that will never be, and it’s especially stupid when Bucky--the Bucky he grew up with--is right here in front of him. He shouldn’t want for more. He ought to just be grateful and pray that whatever twist of fate gave him this gift doesn’t decide to snatch it away again.

“C’mon,” he says, gesturing for the Asset to follow. “Let’s go.”

\--

The Asset vaguely remembers being in malls. Whether with Rogers, as the child or Bucky, or on a mission. He can’t remember which was which, and perhaps that’s bad- His newer memories shouldn’t be so set in stone and fluid that they mix with the memories of Hydra.

But it doesn’t matter.

What _does_ matter is that he absolutely, one hundred percent hates malls. He does not understand the need for a _Forever 21_ , because unless someone is like him, they will not, in fact, be forever 21. The mall is full of ridiculous names and ridiculous stores, with too many people and loud, clanging music.

He sticks close to the child. Maybe James will be better with these crowds and clothes. He doubts it, but James is the one he trusts the most. He wishes he had more than the small knife he sneaked. Everywhere, everyone, is a threat, and it seems too great of one to warrant _clothes_ shopping.

\--

Maybe the mall wasn’t the best idea.

Bucky seems fine with it, but Bucky’s used to being around crowds of people. The kid’s been to the mall a few times, but never during a midday rush, and never really shopping. Just...acclimating himself to being around people again.

Given the way Winter looks like a skittish cat, and James is all but clinging to Winter’s leg, it’s clear the acclimation didn’t take.

Maybe they should have stuck to online shopping. But Bucky’s acting content, so Steve should at least let him pick out some things before they go. Hopefully his calm will rub off on the other two before James can have a meltdown and Winter can respond by attacking everyone around them.

James tugs on Winter’s pant leg, and Winter offers him his hand. At least they can comfort each other. And maybe the kid can help Winter pick out some things. He’s as decisive as any five year old would be.

\--

After they all just stand around like _idiots_ for five minutes, Bucky sighs and pushes Winter forward. “This isn’t a _battlefield_ , Asset. It’s a fuckin’ shopping mall.” He looks guilty at the swearing for a moment, but it’s just a flash- He has bigger things to worry about.

They haven’t had to buy _real_ children’s clothes before- But it’s fairly obvious which stores are for children, and Gymboree seems like a good enough place as any for a boy of five, so Bucky turns in there and pushes a hand against James’ back. “Pick out anything.”

\--

James clings a little tighter to Winter. He looks overwhelmed by the range of options before him. Steve wonders if he can even read the words printed on some of the T-shirts anymore.

“Here,” he says, before one of the employees can swoop in and further frighten the kid. “It’s getting a little cooler out, so we should probably look at some jackets, maybe long-sleeved shirts? And pants and socks.”

James glances at the space where his left arm used to be. “But--”

“We can pin your sleeves out of the way until Tony has an arm for you,” Steve assures him. “It won’t be a problem. What kind of colors do you like? We can start there.”

\--

Well. Steve is taking care of the kid. Bucky stays out of their way, keeping a hand on the Asset’s shoulder. “We’ll go to stores for you soon. Since all the clothes we got are…. Well, mine, I imagine you’ll want your own shit.”

The Asset shrugs and doesn’t look too fazed by the prospect.

“And I gotta get shit that I can pin back. I mean, most of what’s back home is fine to work with, but not all of it. Which is _annoying_. Though, I gotta say- I’m glad _you_ got the arm, not me. Hate the damn thing.”

The Asset blinks and frowns, like he doesn’t agree with that statement- And maybe he doesn’t. ‘Cause the Asset probably _loves_ it. It’s a weapon, after all.

\--

James wrinkles his nose at most of the T-shirts with graphics. Steve isn’t sure if he has an aversion to pictures on his clothing in general, or if he’d prefer things like kittens or bears to monster trucks and robots. He’s all right with stripes and plaids and just plain colors, though, particularly greens and blues. Those were always Bucky’s favorite colors too.

Bucky’s talking to Winter, so Steve figures they’ll be all right if he has James try on some things. “Do you want to look at shoes?” he asks. “We can get you some without laces.”

“Okay,” James mumbles. He still looks confused, but not as apprehensive. Getting to choose his own clothes must have given him some sensation of control. Hopefully the same thing will happen with Winter.

\--

The Asset settles once Bucky explains that this excursion is for _all_ of them, and that Bucky will be able to help him pick out whatever he wants. Once he’s settled, he gravitates back towards the child, watching him pick out clothes curiously. He’s glad the child has a semblance of ability to pick things out.

He worries he’ll freak out when he needs to choose. He has been bred not to care about the choices given to him. He has had choosing tortured out of him. The Asset doesn’t want to choose wrong; He wishes Steve or Bucky would just choose for him.

\--

“Okay,” Steve says, once they’ve assembled a reasonable amount of clothing. “See? That was fun, right? You want to go try your stuff on?”

James nods. He’s chewing lightly at his fingernails, or maybe the skin around them. But he doesn’t look on the verge of panic anymore.

Steve reaches out for his hand so they can find a dressing room when James suddenly stops walking. “Can I have that?” he asks.

He’s looking at one of the shirts with graphics: a sort of a gray-blue covered in darker blue octopuses.

Well, Steve hadn’t expected that. Not that he expected his friend to split into three different bodies either, but his mind seems to have numbed itself to that impossibility at this point, because somehow, James wanting an octopus shirt seems far stranger.

\--

Bucky, walking behind them, snorts loudly. “Is that our spirit animal now? A fu- An octopus? That figures.”

The Asset frowns at Bucky, saying, “Octopuses are very intelligent creatures, Bucky.”

“I know, it’s just- You know what? Nevermind. They’re incredibly intelligent. James, you should totally wear an octopus shirt.” Better to just…. Go with the crazy than try to reason with it.

\--

James just stares between his counterparts, frowning a little. His hand slips out of Steve’s to cling onto the shirt, though.

“Sure,” Steve says. “Here, let me check the size, okay?”

He’s getting the distinct impression that neither the Soldier nor James likes Bucky very much. Which doesn’t bode well for their continued existence under the same roof. Maybe he can point out some of Bucky’s better qualities to the kid.

Winter, though...Steve’s not sure what would appeal to Winter at all.

\--

Bucky swats mildly at the Asset when he continues to just frown and stare. It’s annoying, but also vaguely humorous; He won’t let the Soldier ruin his _good_ mood. He’s free and his counterparts have a chance to have separate, healthy lives. It’s a win-win situation and he can’t see anything wrong with this. At all.

The Asset doesn’t flinch- He doesn’t even move, just frowns deeper. Bucky’s starting to think the man could create a black hole with how severe his frowns can get. Which, of course, means that he could frown a black hole into existence, but that’s…. Besides the point.

As they all walk to the fitting rooms, Bucky catches sight of a sweater with a brown bear embroidered right over the heart, and he can’t help but grab the size he thinks is perfect and throw it onto Steve’s ever-growing pile of clothes.

\--

James glances around the fitting rooms before pulling Steve into a stall with him and pushing the door shut. Steve’s surprised, having expected James to want Winter’s help. They still have the same body, technically. James’s is just much smaller and lacking the scars and physique.

But then, Steve has helped Bucky get dressed when he’s feeling too little to do it himself sometimes. Maybe this is just residual from that.

James is tugging on the hem of Steve’s shirt, and when he leans down, the boy whispers in his ear. “Can you take clothes back after you buy them?”

“Uh, yeah. As long as we still have the receipt.” Steve studies the kid’s face. “But you don’t have to buy anything you don’t want, James.”

“But they won’t fit me anymore,” James says. “Once things go back to normal.”

Steve doesn’t want to deal with the fallout of telling him things might _not_ go back to the way they were before. Not here. “Okay. Then I’ll keep the receipt.”

\--

The Asset was fully expecting to go into the changing room with the child. But then the door is slammed shut in his face and he just accepts that he isn’t allowed to be in there. Though, it’s Bucky who has to pull him back a few feet when the Asset continues to stare at the door for far too long.

He says, a few moments later, “Buying so many clothes for me is unnecessary. I can make do with the clothes you have until we become one again.”

Bucky blinks and shrugs. “Might as well pick out some shit you like. Especially if you’re gonna stay topside more often.”

\--

“It’s cute,” Steve assures James, smiling at the bear sweater he doesn’t remember either of them picking out.

But James just frowns at the left sleeve, hanging limply at his side.

“Why don’t you show it to Bucky and Winter?” Steve suggests. When they were a whole person, he assumes every mindset had an input. And asking them now might help James feel less separated.

James reaches up and tugs on the door handle.

\--

The two men step back immediately and watch the boy come out of the dressing room. Bucky can’t help but grin and crouch down, to be at eye level with the kid- He look unsure, hesitant. Meanwhile, Bucky is ecstatic that he’s wearing something Bucky picked out for him.

Okay. So Bucky loves taking care of kids. So what.

“That’s _adorable_. I like it.” he points to the little bear. “And we could totally sew a little mask on this guy’s face. Look like Bucky Bear.”

\--

For the first time since they separated, Steve sees James’s face light up. “Yeah?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Steve says. “We could do that. It would be easy.” As long as they pick a fabric that won’t unravel. Steve’s had enough practice mending clothes over his life to stitch a little mask onto a bear.

James smiles, turning to Winter. “Do you like it?”

\--

The Asset looks down at him, his opinion unknown, just by looking at his face. “It looks very soft.” He’s got this look, like that’s a very important detail. “Is it?”

\--

James nods. “It’s soft.” After a second of silence, he glances around and announces, “I like soft stuff.”

“Me too,” Steve says. He wonders if James was speaking at all for his benefit, or just realizing that his counterparts can no longer hear his thoughts. “And I really like that sweater, James. You want it?”

James nods.

“Okay. Let’s see if you like the other shirts, all right?”

\--

There’s a small, tiny smile- One that barely even qualifies as one- dancing on the Asset’s face. Bucky sees it and gives this knowing little look and says sarcastically, “Do you, also, happen to like soft stuff, Winter?”

The Asset jerks and looks to Bucky, blinking. He says very slowly, “I… It is very practical.” Which is as good of a yes as anyone was gonna get.

\--

James appears to be in a much better mood after the bear sweater, and doesn’t even frown at the way the sleeveless octopus shirt reveals the space where his arm used to be.

“Like it?” Steve asks.

He’s expecting a yes due to the way James is smiling, but instead he only shrugs. “Maybe.”

“You want to see what the others think?” Steve guesses, and he’s met with a nod. He tries to tell himself it’s just the kid being shy and wanting to know what other people will think. But he has the nagging feeling that James might be thinking that if he doesn’t act like a separate person, then they’ll all go back together.

\--

The entire Gymboree trip goes like that- Shameless approval from the older Bucky’s that make the kid smile and immediately want to buy the shirt or other article of clothing. The Asset tells the child only once that the shirt he is wearing is too impractical for any dangerous situations before Bucky slaps him and tells him to be nice and tell James he looks adorable.

There’s a lot of ‘adorables’ and ‘cutes’ flying around after that, and even a ‘handsome’ from Bucky, after he tries on a sweater with a button up underneath it.

\--

Once the wardrobe James picked out is thoroughly approved, Steve carries the pile of clothes up to the register. James hangs back, and at first Steve assumes that he doesn’t want the cashier cooing over him or staring at his missing arm, until he notices that James has placed himself directly between his counterparts, looking between them.

James likes to be carried. In the short span of time he’s had his own body, he’s made that clear enough. And so far, he’s gravitated toward Winter. Apparently Bucky’s compliments have helped with his misgivings, but maybe he doesn’t want to hurt Winter’s feelings, because he doesn’t ask Bucky to hold him. Steve’s not sure Bucky can when he doesn’t have a second arm to help him balance.

He sets the clothes down on the counter. “Want me to pick you up?” he asks.

James is still frowning, but now he’s looking between all three adults. Well, that offer solved nothing.

\--

The Asset watches James’ reactions for a moment before picking him up. Better to be the wrong adult to be carrying him than to have the child be upset; that would be the worst thing in the world. James must be catered to.

But after a moment of holding and keeping him close, he’s aware that Bucky is watching them with something akin to longing. It’s a feeling the Asset is ashamed to understand, as he’s not supposed to know the emotion- But it’s something that’s obvious to see and find. So he moves, and slowly helps Bucky hold James- Slung on his hip so Bucky only needs one arm to hold him, anyways.

It’s stable and perfect, and Bucky gives the Asset a grateful look.

\--

Steve smiles and briefly wishes he had his phone out. Although the flash would probably startle James and Winter, and Bucky would likely find a way to smash the phone if Steve managed to capture such a sappy moment on camera.

He takes the bags of clothing from the cashier and makes his way back to the others. “All right,” he says. “Any ideas on where we should go next?”

\--

Both of the men look at a loss. Neither of them know _brands_. So they just start walking; clearly, what they’re looking for is a Gap or something similar. It’s clearly what _Bucky’s_ angling for, at the least.

But then the Asset sees a sign that says “Sweater Sale: Get your Fall Look for only $15!”, and immediately angles into the Charlotte fucking Russe. Curly script and pink walls, with absolutely no clothes that are _marketed_ towards men. Bucky sighs and goes, “Are you _sure_?”

The Asset just nods and beelines towards the rack of autumn-colored sweaters.

\--

Steve thinks of speaking up, but honestly, what difference does it make? This is the Winter Soldier. Even if he hadn’t just split into three people, surely this doesn’t even grace the top twenty strangest moments in his life. If he wants to shop at Charlotte Russe, at least he’s showing a preference.

There’s a faint flutter in his stomach at the thought that an employee or customer might complain, but then, this is New York. It’s like he told James earlier: people mind their own business.

And James is smiling again. “They look really soft,” Steve can hear him say.

\--

“They are.” He replies and tugs the sleeve to rub against the child’s cheek. “It’s also very orange. Too orange. Can’t hide in it.” He frowns; he likes the sweater, and there’s even an extra large that will fit him. It’s open in the front, and he thinks that James might like to squeeze between the fabric and his chest to be warm. He’ll have to find one that isn’t open, too, something a little less maintenance.

\--

“You don’t have to hide at the tower,” Steve points out. “You could just wear it inside.”

Though for all he knows, Winter might think that they’re under the threat of attack at any moment. He doesn’t _know_ Winter; Bucky’s conditioning from HYDRA almost never surfaced in comparison to his other mindsets. He never really spoke to Winter before today.

Steve casts a glance to Bucky. Bucky probably knows what to say.

\--

“It doesn’t matter if it’s bright, Winter. You don’t _need_ to hide if you’re going after someone.” Wait, that’s not… Maybe it’s not the most healthy thing to say, but considering the Asset considers this for a moment before nodding and grabbing the sweater from the rack, it’s the right thing to say.

A few minutes later, he’s trying on at least five sweaters, ranging from hugging his hips to grazing the bottom of his knees. Blacks and greys and oranges and reds, and when he tries on the knee-length, open orange sweater, he pulls James up and under the fabric to test out his theory, nodding seriously as though it’s _very_ important that he’s able to hide.

\--

‘Adorable’ is not a word that Steve thought he’d ever use to describe the Winter Soldier, but he’s not sure what else he can say about Winter’s sudden enthusiasm for comfortable sweaters. He’s almost childlike in his fascination, and for the first time, it strikes Steve how similar Winter and James are.

It makes sense. From what Steve can tell, James was created from the Soldier’s perceptions and Pierce’s orders. Bucky’s original personality was buried so deeply at that point that he may not have had any input at all.

“You look good,” he tells Winter every time, and honestly, Winter does. It’s not even the sweaters. It’s just the _independence_ , the ability to choose and enjoy his choices.

\--

Winter grunts and damn near blushes whenever Steve compliments him. He’s not _meant_ to look good. It’s just… Not an adjective that has ever been relevant before. But it feels very relevant now, even if having all three of them stare at him while he tries on clothes is nerve wracking.

He would get other clothes from here if it would fit him- As it is, he’s lucky sweaters are meant to be big on women, so they can fit him snugly. Slowly, he hands the sweaters he likes the most to Steve and asks, quietly, like he’s unsure, “Can we buy these?”

\--

“Of course we can,” Steve says at once. “Are there any others that you want?”

He decides they definitely need to check online shopping where Winter’s concerned; if he prefers clothing from women’s boutiques in general, and not just for sweaters, then there’ll be a lot more options in his size in online stores.

\--

Winter shrugs and shakes his head. There’s too many choices in this store- the Thought of moving around the _entire_ store and choosing is too overwhelming. Even the two racks of sweaters took him a half an hour to move through, his head pounding every time he saw a new piece of fabric that he’d have to Decide on.

He gestures to the clothes in Steve’s hand and grunts a little, again. That’s enough. It’s good enough. He can get better shirts and jeans when Bucky picks out his clothes. Shadow him. It doesn’t matter, after all. Right?

\--

“Okay,” Steve says gently. He wants to hug onto Winter the way he would with James and assure him that he’s okay, that he doesn’t have to be worried or frustrated, but he restrains himself. He has no idea if Winter would respond to an unexpected touch with relief or with violence. “We’ll just get these, then. I’m glad you found something you liked.”

\--

Fidgeting, Winter angles towards the checkout line. He nods to Steve and says, “Thank you.” For letting him get clothes, for- For not _choosing_ for him. He needs to do better at this. He needs to be better at being a person. Even if the three of them will resume being one person again, soon. He has to try.

\--

“You’re welcome,” Steve says, smiling.

He feels a sudden rush of something like gratitude. Gratitude that the three of them split apart, so that he has the chance to understand this part of Bucky he’s barely interacted with. Now he can better get to know him. Now, hopefully, he can comfort him just like he soothes the other mindsets.

“You’re doing really well,” he says. He wants to say more, but he doesn’t want to overwhelm Winter either.

\--

Winter blinks and nods and looks _pleased_ at the praise. But he immediately turns away to pull the child closer to him, like he doesn’t want to have praise all to himself. He’s not used to it. “Malls are disgusting. Clothes are nice.”

\--

“Malls are loud,” James adds, wrinkling his nose.

“Yeah.” Steve nods at both of them. “But we’re almost through here. And maybe we can get smoothies or something on the way out?” Bucky liked smoothies when he was one person. He’ll probably still like them as three people.

Plus, it’ll give Winter the opportunity to choose again. Whether or not this is permanent, Steve feels like he should encourage that as much as he can.

\--

Winter makes an agreeing, interested sound and picks the child up, holding him close and listening to the sounds his body makes as Steve checks out and buys the sweaters.

The rest of the trip is simple- Bucky gets plenty of short sleeved shirts, a few jackets and a hoodie or two, and Winter clearly shadows him, getting similar clothes (though all of his is noticeably softer material, often ranging into the women’s section to find cuts and fabric that he likes better). Bucky shows him a few soft, near-satin sleep pants, and the small, hesitant smile returns to Winter’s face. He buys two pairs, with two different patterns.

\--

Steve can’t help beaming a little every time Winter picks out something. With anyone else, it would feel patronizing and infantilizing, but considering Winter’s circumstances, Steve doesn’t feel the need to chide himself for it. “All right,” he says once Bucky seems finished. “Smoothies? And then we head home?”

“I wanna see the Commander,” James says suddenly. “He can pick me up now like Agent Rollins used to.”

\--

Bucky grimaces and Winter gives a soft nod. At the same time, they say, respectively,

“That’s a _horrible_ idea”,

and, “I do too.”

As a whole, as three people squashed into one, Bucky’s emotions over Brock were often overlooked. The Soldier wanted his approval, wanted _everything_ from Brock, and the child loved him. Loved him for just… Not being the horrible dick monster that he could have been, working for Hydra. But now, each one separate to say their full opinion, it’s a little more complicated.

\--

“Two beats one,” James says at once.

Absently, Steve wonders who taught him that argument. His bet is either Tony or Clint, though Natasha’s also a strong possibility. But that’s not important now. He needs to prevent any shouting matches or screaming tantrums, and now. “You don’t want to show Tasha and Pepper and everyone your new clothes? I bet they’re really excited to see what you picked out.”

James pouts. “There’s too many of them. And they’ll all be saying how cute I am.” He speaks as though this is the worst thing in the world, even though he was glowing when Bucky was complimenting him. “The Commander won’t do that. He’ll just stare and ask what the fuck happened and maybe make pancakes.”

“Language,” Steve says reflexively. Sure, James has heard and seen far worse in his life, but Steve would prefer it if he actually acts like the child he’s become.

“ _Please_?” James asks.

\--

“The Commander will feel more at ease now that James is an actual child, and not a consistent reminder of his guilt.” The Asset says, and Bucky could fucking _slap_ him. That’s just a little- and by a little he means a lot- insensitive to say right in front of the _damn_ kid.

He rolls his eyes, but concedes, “It _will_ be pretty priceless to see his reaction to _three_ of me.”

\--

“So can we see him?” James asks, squirming in excitement. “Please? He’ll be so happy!”

That, or his heart will give out. But Steve can’t imagine James will take it well if he says so out loud. And Winter certainly won’t appreciate it if Steve makes James cry.

“You’re _sure_ you wouldn’t rather do this later?” he asks.

“But we can show the Commander all my new stuff,” James protests. “And later we’ll all be one person again, and we won’t be able to.”

\--

“The Commander will be upset if we don’t show him our separate bodies before we become one again.” The Asset agrees immediately.

Bucky sighs and shakes his head. “Is it possible to _not_ burst my little bubble of hope every five minutes?” Because seriously. He wants this to last. He wants to be his own fucking person, and he wants the kid to have his own life and the Asset to maybe _maybe_ become human enough to have his own, as well.

\--

“You can carry me when we go see the Commander,” James informs Bucky, and Steve’s not sure how that’s a consolation prize to the whole ‘losing your autonomy’ issue. But expecting consistent, informed logic from a five year old is probably a losing battle.

“Who’s going to help me work out the instructions to setting up your car seat?” he asks. “We didn’t even _have_ car seats when I was growing up.”

James shrugs. “I don’t read very good.”

\--

“The Commander will know how to build a car seat.” The Asset says, giving Steve a slow look. “Most likely. You could ask him.”

Bucky stares between this- This little ragtag group of idiots and just. Sighs.

\--

James frowns up at his counterpart, and only now does it strike Steve how trying this entire experience must be for Bucky. Before, he’d been too preoccupied with keeping everyone calm to focus on it, but now it’s so plain that Steve’s ashamed he didn’t think of it before.

For the first time since he fell from the train, Bucky’s as free from his traumas as possible. Not completely separated--he still seems to remember his time as the Soldier, and it’s not as though Bucky hadn’t suffered before he fell--but as close as he’ll likely ever get. He’s literally a different person than the two most painful aspects of his life now.

And those aspects both want to go back to the way things were. Not only that, but their entire separation so far has been more focused on calming James and Winter than it has on just letting Bucky _breathe_ and be himself.

“Winter,” Steve says. “Could you take James to the restroom before we go?”

He’d like to give Bucky a moment’s respite, however brief.

\--

The Asset nods and turns to James. “You have to relieve yourself.” He moves to scoop him up in his arms, careful not to jostle him too much with his bags of clothes.

Bucky gives Steve an odd look, frowning. It’s obvious the man is up to something- Steve never could hide much from him. He watches Steve as Winter walks towards the bathrooms, waiting.

\--

“I figured you could use a break,” Steve says honestly. “This must mean so much to you, and you haven’t had a chance to enjoy it.”

He isn’t sure what to do. This could be temporary; it’s not like they know what even caused this, let alone its duration. If he tries isolating Bucky from his counterparts and the effect _is_ permanent, it will lasting damage between the three of them and reinforce James’s fear that Bucky hates them.

But if it _isn’t_ permanent, it’s not fair to Bucky to make him spend all his time while separated catering to the others’ needs.

\--

“Stevie, one bathroom break isn’t enough to enjoy the fact that I’m free.” He says, but… His shoulders sag. He looks a little less tense. “I don’t want to go back to one person. Look. For all of us? This is a good thing.”

\--

“I agree.” It’s not as if Steve’s been in Bucky’s head to know what it’s like, but Bucky has a chance to live his life the way he wanted before HYDRA got their claws in him now. James can be something more than a security blanket and a sick joke. And Winter has the chance to be a person. “I want it to be like this too, Buck. And when we get back, if Tony’s learned anything else, we can ask about keeping this stable.”

He glances in the direction that Winter carried James. “But I don’t know how to let you be free without making them panic.”

Maybe Bucky has an idea. He knows their thoughts better than anyone else, after all.

\--

“Well. They gotta learn that it’s a good thing to be separate. They want- Each of us fall back on the other for different things. It’s fucking unhealthy.” Bucky shrugs and glances towards the bathroom as well. “They gotta learn. Maybe- We just gotta teach them to enjoy their life. Separate.”

However that’ll work.

\--

“I can probably get them to show off the stuff they bought when we get home,” Steve says. James, at least. And Winter seems to want to tag along wherever James is. Which, yeah, isn’t exactly healthy, but then, it’s not as if they’ve ever been autonomous people before today. It’ll take some time.

“That should give you time to unwind. Do whatever you feel like, for a change.” Steve imagines Pepper alone could spend a long time cooing over the kid, and then there’s Tony and Clint and Natasha and--Natasha.

Steve wonders how things are going to work with Natasha now. Will she want to play with James like she did when he was an adult? For the kid’s sake, he hopes so. She was the only other ‘kid’ he had. And it’s not like there’s an abundance of actual children in the Avengers’ Tower for James to spend time with.

\--

“I’ll be honest, I’m a little overwhelmed, still. There’s not- Most of the pressure on my head is gone. There’s no pain anymore. I don’t know _what_ to do, you know?” He fidgets the bags he has, trying to move them better on his shoulder- It’s a little difficult to maneuver and balance without the familiar painful weight of the metal arm.

But he’d much rather no arm, than _that_ thing.

\--

“Here.” Steve reaches out, helping push the straps of the bags up on Bucky’s shoulder. His fingers hover there once the bags are in place. Will Bucky even _want_ a prosthetic arm again, or is that too much a reminder of his imprisonment? Maybe they can give him something lighter. Something that doesn’t look like metal and wasn’t designed as a weapon.

He realizes his hand is still on Bucky’s shoulder and he flushes, drawing away. “Still. I at least want to give you the breathing room so you can figure out what you want.”

\--

Bucky smiles, more of a smirk really, when Steve moves away. He wants to say something rude- something about how hovering isn’t space, Rogers. But he refrains. He’s not sure what the flushing is about, or- Or anything, really.

“Well, thanks. I’ve got _no_ idea, and I’m pretty sure others’ll be stuck at my hip. Which isn’t _bad_ , necessarily. They- I think they hate me. And also look up to me.”

\--

“James doesn’t hate you, Buck,” Steve protests. “He wouldn’t have agreed to any of those clothes if you didn’t like them.” The kid hadn’t seemed thrilled with Bucky when the separation first happened, but he clearly cares about the other Bucky’s approval.

Which doesn’t equal affection, sure, but he wouldn’t have wanted Bucky to hold him if he didn’t like him at least a little.

“They just need time,” Steve says. “You know what it’s like to be your own person. They have to learn that.” And judging by how fast James started demanding pants and an arm and all of that, Steve hopes it won’t take too long.

\--

“Well, then they’ll be stuck at the hip even more then, huh?” Bucky smiles a little, though. He really does like the kid, and even the Asset, weird and dangerous and a horrible reminder as he was, is more endearing than he could have thought possible.

Nothing solidified that thought more than seeing the Asset kind of twirl in the mirror earlier, paying attention to his sweater with the most concentration a man of his size possibly fucking _could_.

And the kid is _just_ a kid now. Bucky loves kids, and this one more than most- He’s already attached.

“We seriously going to see _Rumlow_?”

\--

“I guess,” Steve says, not looking forward to it any more than Bucky. “Better to be there to supervise, you know?” It’s not that he expects Rumlow to steal Winter and go running back to HYDRA; Rumlow’s become as attached to the kid as everyone else, however grudgingly. Steve’s not sure Rumlow would have it in him to take the Asset away from James like that.

But bringing the Winter Soldier back to HYDRA would be enough to make Rumlow very comfortable for the rest of his life, and Steve would prefer to be there to ensure that the man doesn’t give into temptation.

\--

“Yeah. On both sides- The Asset and the kid are both gonna be demanding as _fuck_ with Rumlow.” He shakes his head, and then takes a step closer to Steve, looking at him seriously after a moment. “I’m-” He swallows and chews on his lip for a second, and continues, “Being separated… All their memories are slowly disappearing. Not entirely but… It’s like the focus is being shifted. Everything, even the shit that’s been so _foggy_ with the kid and the Asset in here with me, is becoming clearer again. And. Thanks, Stevie. You didn’t have to put up with my dumbass self.”

He fidgets a little, glancing from up to Steve’s face and down again, before leaning forward to give him a soft kiss on his forehead. Nothing so forward, nothing so _romantic_. Just platonic. Intimate. A thank you and a sorry all at once- Sorry for not being the person you need. Sorry for being unable to be whole. Sorry for all the emotional trauma he’s caused. Thank you for helping. “I appreciate it.”

Bucky turns his face away before he gets all _embarrassed_ , before Steve can see the way his face is red and serious and uncomfortable.

\--

“Bucky,” Steve says, and he can’t stop himself from reaching out and hugging onto his friend, not caring if he knocks the shopping bags loose and ends up having to shove clothing back inside them. “You were the one putting up with _me_ , dumbass. How much shit did I drag you into over the years?”

He shakes his head, content to just stand there, holding tight to Bucky and assuring himself that this is real. That this is his Bucky, the man he lost so long ago in the Alps, that he’s solid and breathing and not going anywhere, not if Steve has anything to say about it.

Then he steps back as if scalded. “You--if your memories of how things were are getting clearer, will that happen with the other two?” James has happy memories from the Tower, sure, but the last thing he needs is the memories of Pierce’s abuse front and center in his mind. And Winter...nothing good can come of his Soldier missions and training dominating his thoughts.

\--

“I don’t know. It’s- Anything from when I was awake is clear. The others…” He sees Steve’s look and shrugs. “They’ll remember what happened. Clearly. But they’ll also remember the Tower. It’s not that they didn’t remember it before, but if the thoughts got too hard, someone else would take the mantle. Each of us can handle certain things the others can’t. It’s the only reason we weren’t _entirely_ crazy.”

\--

It was Bucky’s way of coping when they were all together. When he felt too overwhelmed to handle things, he could be a child, cared for and protected. When he felt safe or coddled, he could be himself. And when he felt threatened, he could be calculating and nearly emotionless.

And now that system’s been ripped away. They can still support each other, but it’s not like Winter can be five if he feels violent urges anymore.

Steve needs to get in touch with Bucky’s therapists. And soon.

He nearly says as much, but Winter and James are headed back their way.

\--

Bucky watches them come back, trying to avoid Steve’s gaze. This is perfect- He doesn’t want to talk about what he _knows_ Steve is going to say. For once, he blesses the Soldier.

“James does not like how large the bathrooms and urinals are, now.” The Soldier says as soon as he comes closer, holding James off of one hip. Well. That’s one way to get off very serious topics. He sets the boy down, still holding his hand.

\--

“And there’s too many people,” James adds. It makes sense; Bucky hasn’t been a fan of public restrooms ever since he started going out in public again. The abuses he’s been through have made him wary, and of course that effect would be compounded now that he’s physically defenseless.

Unless James is still as strong as the Soldier, albeit relative to his size. Steve prays that’s not the case. He can’t imagine the aftermath of a tantrum with that sort of strength behind it.

“You didn’t miss, did you?” he asks. It’s crude, but maturity doesn’t much matter when he’s talking to a kindergartner. And he’d rather be juvenile than ask if James panicked in the bathroom because he was around unfamiliar men.

“No!” James says, but he’s laughing a little, and that’s better than crying or worrying.

\--

The Asset looks like he’s about to go into further detail, so Bucky cuts in, “That’s good enough, Winter! We got it. We all have empty bladders- Let’s go talk to _fucking_ Rumlow.”

\--

“Language,” says James, and there’s a little smirk on his face.

Steve can’t help howling with laughter. It’s not even that it’s especially _funny_ , but the world as he knows it has officially stopped making sense, and now what’s basically the smaller, cuddlier version of the Winter Soldier is chiding himself for swearing. What other reaction can Steve have at this point?

\--

Bucky snorts and crouches down to face James, grinning. “Alright, little man, you caught me. I have a filthy mouth. Let’s go talk to the _very nice and not at all a bad word_ Rumlow. C’mere.” He holds his arm out the best he can, willing him to climb up and be held by Bucky.

\--

And James does just that. He ends up almost squished up against the shopping bags Bucky’s holding, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

“See?” Steve says. “You had fun, right? And nobody stepped on you.”

“Yet,” James mutters.

\--

“No one will ever step on you, James.” Winter says, and reaches out to carefully touch the top of James’ shoes. “On the contrary, you will step on them, Mishka.” He smiles slowly, just a small, tiny thing that barely lights up his face. But considering how stoic he normally looks, it’s a goddamn _transformation_.

\--

“Why don’t we go see Rumlow before we step on anybody?” Steve suggests.

He’s never heard Winter speak Russian before. It’s rare to hear any of the mindsets use it. Bucky’s always said his memories of HYDRA are much clearer than his memories of the Soviets. But maybe that’s not the case for Winter anymore.

Steve’s not sure if that would be any better, the Stalinist memories growing stronger than the recollections of Pierce, but he tries to swallow down his worry. They’re here, they’re healing, and with any luck, things will stay that way. He’s not going to waste this gift by worrying.

He’ll probably have enough to worry about once they’re all annoying Rumlow anyway.

\--

“Yeah, save your foot-stomping energy until we get there and stomp on him.” Bucky says, bouncing James lightly on his hip and smiling at him.

Winter steps back away from them, slowly moving to grab some of Bucky’s bags, trying to release the burden from both him and the uncomfortable position that James is left in.

\--

“He already had a building stomp on him,” James says solemnly. “I think that’s enough.”

It would absolutely set a bad example for Steve to laugh himself to tears over that comment. Too bad he can’t help it.

\--

Bucky bursts into laughter and tries to ignore the nearly murderous look that the Asset gives him. Who cares; It’s funny. Well, no. It isn’t. It’s tragic and horrible and his laughter is mixed in with years and years of abuse, but maybe he’s just the right amount of unhinged to laugh at it, even if James didn’t mean it as a joke.

“Maybe you’re right, bug. Maybe you should ask him before you stomp on him, then.” He bounces him once more and then sets off towards the door, brushing his shoulder against the Asset’s so he, too, follows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mishka is Russian for little bear.


	3. Chapter 3

“We should surprise the Commander.”

Daddy stares at him. “What?”

“When we go see him,” James explains. He’s already seeing it in his head, like a movie. A really good movie. “Winter can go in first, and then Bucky and me come out and surprise him.” Maybe while saying something really cool. Like Bucky could say, ‘Looks like you’re seeing double’ and then James could show up and say ‘Or triple!’ It would be amazing.

“But Jarvis already told everybody about this,” Daddy says.

James pouts. Then shrugs. “The Commander was probably asleep.” He sleeps a lot. He’s kind of like a cat, except he’s not soft and he doesn’t purr.

\--

“Jarvis wouldn’t just tell Rumlow while he’s _sleeping_ , James.” Bucky says. He’s sitting in the passenger side of the car, arm pulled up to tap against the roof of the car. He’s found his sunglasses somewhere along the way and looks…. Remarkably content. All things considering. “But maybe you’ll get lucky and he was high off his goddamn ass when Jarvis told him and he forgot.”

\--

“Bucky,” Daddy says. Daddy’s the one driving, and he’s doing a really good job considering how often he looks away from the road to scold somebody or just blink at them.

James and Winter are in the backseat, and Winter’s got his arm across James’s body because they don’t have the carseat set up, and Winter said it was a necessary precaution. James thinks slamming into Winter’s metal arm in case of a crash wouldn’t help much, but he doesn’t say this out loud.

“Winter could tell him we all joined back together and _then_ we could surprise him,” James suggests.

“I think he’ll be surprised enough already,” Daddy says.

\--

“The Commander doesn’t like surprises. They upset him.” Winter says carefully, slowly, like he’s _trying_ to put more life and emotion into his voice. “He’ll already be confused enough, I think.”

Bucky nods and moves to point at Winter. “He’s got it in one. And do you want Rumlow to be upset?”

\--

James frowns. “No!” The Commander’s upset enough most of the time anyway. “I don’t want him to be sad.”

“Which is why we won’t surprise him,” Daddy says. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you anyway. We don’t need to surprise him.”

James nods. He wants to surprise _somebody_ , though. Tony doesn’t count because they were too confused then to do anything cool. But Jarvis already told everybody else. Maybe they can surprise the doctors.

\--

“Maybe we will get lucky and he’ll make us pancakes, James.” Winter says, and moves to brush a few strands of hair from his face. He wonders if the child will cut his hair now, or if he prefers to have the versatility that long hair brings.

\--

“With chocolate chips.” Probably even Bucky can’t pretend that the Commander’s pancakes aren’t still the best pancakes ever. Maybe they’ll all bite into the pancakes and enjoy them so much that they’ll just become the same person again. James is pretty sure he saw a movie like that once. Well, it was thinking the same thoughts, not liking the same food, but they’d all be thinking about how much they like pancakes.

It will definitely work.

\--

“You can have every chocolate chip that the Commander has.” Winter doesn’t care much, for chocolate chips. The child can have them. And even if he did like them, he would give them to James, anyways. “If he doesn’t give them to you, I will find some for you.” Even if that means looking through every cupboard, or going to the store himself.

\--

“But we should all eat the same pancakes,” James insists. “Anyway, if we have different pancakes, the Commander will have to do more work.”

“I don’t think it takes a lot of effort to add chocolate chips to the batter once he’s already made a few,” Daddy says, watching a stoplight through the windshield.

The whole universe is against James today.

\--

“The commander needs his exercise anyways, James.” Bucky says and snorts when he looks back and sees the _look_ on the kid’s face. He looks world weary about _pancakes_. “Kid. Relax. We’re not even _there_ yet.”

\--

James just grumbles and decides not to talk to Bucky ever again. Bucky probably doesn’t even _like_ pancakes anymore. He thinks he’s so special now that he’s all grown up and separate. And his hair is stupid. James can’t count on him to help fix anything at all.

He wishes he had Bucky Bear. James is sure Bucky Bear would agree with him about everything, even if he’d be way more quiet about it now.

“It’s okay, lamb,” Daddy says. “You’ll have fun seeing him even if there aren’t pancakes.”

 _Will not,_ James thinks. He tries to cross his arms, but he can’t anymore.

\--

Bucky starts laughing and even Winter has a smile on his face. James’ line of thinking makes sense to _Winter_ , at least, but he can also see how amusing this is. He’s glad the child is growing into himself already, comfortable and perfect and beautiful in his autonomy.

“Mishka, if you ate all the pancakes you wanted, you would grow round and fat.” He slowly pokes a fleshy finger against his stomach, not moving the metal one from acting like a seat belt. “Is that what you want?”

\--

James doesn’t answer, squirming a little because his stomach is ticklish. Winter’s supposed to be on _his_ side. Nobody understands how important these pancakes are. What if it’s their only way of fixing things and it won’t work because they won’t try it?

“Will I have an arm when we get back home?” he asks Daddy, annoyed.

He can tell just from Daddy’s voice when he answers that Daddy’s smiling too. “I think it’ll take Tony more than a couple of hours, James.”

\--

“It took HYDRA years to make ours. Even if Tony is smarter than them, it’ll take a while. Which is good- You don’t want a rushed arm, do you?” Bucky loves the look of annoyance on his face, the small childish questions and attitudes. This is a _real_ child. And he’ll stay like this. Never to be some fucked up experiment again.

\--

“I want _an_ arm,” James says before he can remember that he’s not talking to Bucky anymore. _Damn it_. This is the worst day of his life, and he can’t help but kick the back of Bucky’s seat. Bucky deserves it.

“And I want my bear,” he adds. It’s clear that no one else is going to understand how he feels.

\--

Bucky can’t help but giggle just a little bit at the sensation of kicking. “We’ll get him when we get to the Tower, okay? He’s still in my- Your room.”

Winter frowns a little and turns to face James, looking at him for a good twenty seconds before saying, “You don’t need the bear.”

\--

“He’ll be lonely,” James protests. “He’s probably already sad that we didn’t take him with us.”

He’s going to hug Bucky Bear really hard when he gets back home. And then he won’t let Winter or Bucky hold the bear, not ever again. That’ll teach them a lesson. And Bucky Bear will be rightly disgusted and shocked with how badly the other two are treating James.

Bucky Bear will be perfect.

\--

Winter blinks. “I’m right here. I’m not lonely.” Because- Is the child… Has he forgotten already, who his bear _really_ is? That’s a very sad thought. Winter thought he had made himself very important to the boy’s life, but maybe not. Maybe the boy just wants a stuffed animal devoid of any real personality.

He understands that.

\--

“He’s not the same anymore,” James says. “Nothing’s the same anymore.”

And if everything else is changing in ways James doesn’t like, he can at least make sure that Bucky Bear agrees with everything he wants.

\--

“Your bear is me, James.” Winter says, and yes, he’s absolutely pouting. He’s trying really hard not to squeeze his arm a little tighter because of how upset he is, but he doesn’t want to hurt James, at _all_. “I can actually talk to you, for real, now.”

Which is good. He’d like to go back to how things were but… There are benefits to being separated. Even if he’s scared he’ll snap and hurt someone at any moment.

\--

“But you can’t be my bear now,” James says. “You’re _here_.” He doesn’t mean to sound mad, but he is. He doesn’t want to be actually little and vulnerable and all alone with a bunch of stuff in his head that he doesn’t want to remember. And Winter and Bucky are teasing him about pancakes and they just don’t get it and he _is_ mad. “I want my bear too. I don’t have anything else anymore.”

\--

“I can be your bear.” Winter says gruffly, serious, and…. Almost upset. He doesn’t want to be relegated to just a person that James knows. He wants to be his confidant and his bear and- Just. Everything. Depended on and held close. And the child is _mad_ at him for assuming that is okay. He’s not trying to glare but it’s obvious that he is.

\--

But he _can’t_ , not like this. Winter can’t be Bucky Bear anymore, can’t know what’s in his head when James is too scared or sad to say it out loud. And now Winter and Bucky are way older than James. What if they keep getting older or start going on missions and they die way before him? What if he gets older? James is supposed to be five. He’s always supposed to be five. He doesn’t want that to change.

James doesn’t mean to cry, but once he starts he can’t stop.

\--

Winter makes a distressed sound and pulls away, closer to the front seat and makes a sound close to a _whine_ deep in his throat. “James is crying.”

“What? Why?” Bucky twists and stares at the crying boy, frowning because? He was fine two seconds ago. He thinks.

\--

“James?” That’s Daddy’s voice. Daddy can’t be paying attention to him; he’s supposed to be driving and what if the car crashes and everyone gets really hurt and it’s all because of James? It just makes him cry harder. “What’s wrong?”

He can’t get the words out. And before, maybe that would have been okay because Bucky could tell Daddy what’s wrong, but now Bucky doesn’t know either. This is _awful_.

“I--I don’t--” he tries, but he’s crying too much to say anything else.

\--

Winter makes another distressed noise and pulls back, shifting his arm so it’ll be a little more comfortable for the child. “James, you can’t cry.” He’s not supposed to and Steve may say it’s okay, but it’s clearly _not_ , it’s not okay at _all_.

\--

Daddy’s pulling over. They’ll probably never get to see the Commander now, and James will be in trouble. Winter’s right and crying is bad. It’s not allowed. All James can think of is how his last daddy would punish him for crying. He doesn’t want to think about that, but there’s nowhere else inside him for James to go to hide from the memories anymore.

Daddy’s unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching out to James, but James just flinches back and shoves his face against Winter’s side like he can push his way back in.

\--

Winter unbuckles James immediately and pulls him to his body, watching Steve reach back. He can almost _feel_ the child’s thoughts, they’re so loud, and Winter agrees. Steve will punish him. And he’d rather Steve punish Winter, not the child, so he’ll hold his body and hope Steve hurts him instead.

He whispers, “You shouldn’t have started crying. Now you’re in trouble.” There’s almost _fear_ dotting his voice.

\--

“James,” Daddy says. “It’s okay. What’s the matter?”

James won’t answer. He can’t stop crying and he knows if he even tries to speak, it’ll come out as a loud, sobbing mess, and he’ll be in more trouble. He’s going to be quiet, even though that’s not really any better. Crying is still crying.

“James,” Daddy says again. He doesn’t sound happy. “Winter, do you know what happened?”

\--

“He wants me to be Bucky Bear again.” Winter says and continues to scrabble back in the seat a little, shielding James with his arms and holding him to his chest. “And he cried. And now he’s in trouble and you’re going to punish him.”

\--

“He’s not in trouble,” Daddy says. He sounds soft, but James’s last daddy sounded soft when James asked about the man on the bridge, and then didn’t stop him from telling the doctors to turn on the chair. “Nobody’s in trouble and nobody’s getting punished. I promise. Bucky?”

He sounds like he’s calling for help. Maybe he wants Bucky to make Winter let go of James.

\--

“Kid, no one’s gonna hurt you. We’d _stop_ anyone from hurting you. You’re allowed to cry, it’s okay. We just- We wanna know _why_ you’re crying so we can make it better. Get you happy again.” Bucky’s trying to look sympathetic and trustworthy, eyes bigger than usual and trying not to frown at all.

Winter just holds James closer.

\--

“I remember all this stuff and it hurts and nobody’s here to help anymore and you’re going to get old and die and I’m going to get old and I don’t want to and I just want things to be like they’re supposed to be!” James wails. He doesn’t mean to. He can feel Winter squeezing tighter while he’s shouting, trying to warn him to shut up.

But he can’t _not_ say it. Because there’s no one inside to say it to anymore. No one to calm him down before he can be bad.

\--

“Growing older is healthy, James.” Bucky says, frowning finally. “It means that we’re _normal_. We weren’t normal before. This is _good_.” He doesn’t know what else to say, and it’s obvious that Winter doesn’t agree with him, so he doesn’t even _try_ there. He glances at Steve; maybe he knows what to say.

\--

“I don’t want to be normal!”

“James,” Daddy says. He sound so tired. “It hasn’t even been a day. We still don’t know what happened, okay? Just...breathe for me, please. Deep breaths like Bruce taught you. If you worry like this when we don’t know what caused it or if it’s permanent, you’re going to make yourself sick. We--”

“I can’t stop worrying!” Winter’s shirt is all soaked from where James is crying against it. “I don’t know how to stop anymore!”

\--

“Take a deep breath.” Winter says softly, pulling him up so he can look at the child in the eye. “And think about your favorite thing in the world. Do you want that thing to see you cry? Or would you want it to see you happy?”

\--

James thinks of Bucky Bear. But Winter is Bucky Bear, and so Bucky Bear is here, but that doesn’t help James to stop. Winter’s upset too. And he wouldn’t be upset if James wasn’t crying. So he’s already messed everything up.

\--

“Sh.” Winter says and tries- He doesn’t know what to do. Children are fragile. He puts one of his hands over James’ mouth and tries to stop him from making any more crying noises. Maybe that will stop him.

\--

James freezes.

He doesn’t know what to do. His last daddy never did this when James made too much noise. No one’s ever done this. For a second he stops crying because he’s confused and worried that whatever happens next will hurt.

But then Daddy shouts. “Don’t!”

\--

Winter flinches and jerks towards Steve’s face, blinking slowly. “He needs to stop crying, sir.” His voice is flat, slow and devoid of much more than an underlying agitation and fear. He’s still afraid they’ll hurt James, and at least holding his mouth shut will stop that.

\--

“You can’t grab someone to make them stop crying!” Daddy’s pale and he looks like he might throw up. “It’ll only make him more upset. Let go, Winter.”

\--

“He’s not crying anymore. This is good. He’s quiet.” He holds James tighter- He doesn’t understand why Steve wants him to let go when that will just make James cry again, which is _bad_.

\--

“He’s not crying because he’s _scared_ ,” Daddy says. He looks so upset and that makes tears sting in James’s eyes all over again. “He’s still upset. It’s not about getting him to stop crying, it’s about making him feel better. Covering up the noise doesn’t change that.”

Daddy’s fingers twist at the cuffs of his shirt, and his voice almost breaks when he looks away. “Buck. Tell him.”

\--

Bucky is wide eyed and staring at both of them, but at Steve’s words, he launches into motion, reaching back to slap at the Asset’s fucking hand and get him away. “You can’t hold down a kid who’s been _traumatized_ , Winter. You’re gonna fuck him more than he already _is_.”

Winter struggles for a second but eventually lets Bucky take his hands off of James, lets Bucky pull James to the other side of the backseat where Winter won’t touch him. He could stop Bucky, of course, but he won’t. He doesn’t want to, anymore. Bucky always has certain reasonings that make _sense_ , and he looks _mad_ right now.

\--

James doesn’t want to huddle up against the door next to him. He wants to stop crying and say that he’s okay, that Winter didn’t hurt him and they shouldn’t be mad at Winter for trying to help.

But he can’t talk at all still. His chest hurts now, like something’s squeezing tighter and tighter around him every second. And he’s crying again, almost curled into a ball, as far away from Winter as he can get.

\--

Winter does almost the same- As soon as the child is in the other side of the car, and Bucky is just sitting there _staring_ at him, he pulls his legs up onto the car upholstery and curls up a little. Pushes himself against the window and pretends that he can go away. Go away and become the child, or Bucky, anyone but himself.

He wishes he could sleep. He’s been bad, he deserves it. But they don’t have the equipment necessary, and he can’t play pretend as a bear with a colander on its head anymore. He can’t get wiped and perfected, he has to just- Just sit against the car and acknowledge that he has been bad.

Why won’t they just _punish_ him? He wishes they would. At least the world would have order then. He grunts and ignores the _lecture_ waiting to happen, ignores the child and pulls his own silver hand to cover his mouth.

\--

“James,” Daddy says, and he’s reaching into the backseat again. This time, Winter doesn’t keep him away, and Daddy’s hand settles on his shoulder. “Breathe for me. You’re not in trouble. Nobody’s in trouble, I promise. Just breathe.”

James tries to breathe. He closes his eyes tight and tries to pretend that he’s _whole_ again. That he and Winter and Bucky are all the same and he hasn’t been bad and Bucky Bear’s right beside him.

And maybe he breathes a little better, because Daddy doesn’t sound so worried when he asks, “Do you want to sit in the front until you feel better?”

\--

“You can sit up here on my lap. Or Steve’s. Whichever you want.” Bucky says, and he’s schooled his face back into something less scared, something less disappointed and angry. Just calm, now. Or, at least, trying to be.

\--

He wants to sit on Bucky’s lap. He wants to use the fingernails on the hand he still has to claw his way into Bucky, where he’s supposed to be, and just hide there. But he can’t move. His chest still really hurts, and he’s scared. Scared that he won’t be able to stop crying on Bucky’s lap either, and then they will get mad. Scared that Winter will grab him again.

“I can’t move,” he whispers.

\--

“Do you want me to, uh, help you to the front?” Bucky asks, frowning a little. He’s not sure what’s going on, not exactly sure how much of this is panic and fear from the child and how much is just- He just doesn’t know. All of this is new, is an enigma and well. He’s not exactly surprised it went downhill.

\--

“I--” What if Bucky reaches back and Winter hits him because Bucky grabbed Winter before? What if James throws up on him? He’s crying so much he could get sick. He probably will.

He doesn’t want to get sick, and the thought that he might just makes him cry more.

He nods.

\--

“Okay. Just. Bear with me.” He glances over to Winter, verifying that he’s still curled up and staring out the window, not paying attention to either of them. He’s not really sure _what_ Winter’s deal is, and he’s doubly not sure that he’s safe right now.

But he’s assuming for the moment that he’s a non issue.

He reaches back, pulling himself farther in the back than he would normally need to, so he can grab James with only one arm. It’s hard and he strains a little, not used to that much weight on one arm, without dropping or hurting James, but he gets him. Loops around him with his arm and pulls him over, then settles him onto his lap. “Better?”

\--

James pushes himself closer against Bucky. He can hear Bucky’s heartbeat over his own sniffling, and that makes him burrow closer. He doesn’t mean to dig his nails into Bucky’s shirt, but he can’t help it. He’s so scared and so _lonely_.

“This doesn’t work,” he whispers. “We can’t calm each other down anymore. We just make everything worse.”

\--

“We just have to do things different now. We can calm each other. We just- It’s different, okay? We all have to learn. Don’t worry; we’ll get the hang of it.” Bucky shifts so he’s more comfortable, rubbing his hand through James’ hair.

\--

“We _won’t_.” Winter will get upset and somebody will get really hurt, and they’ll either be thrown out of the Tower or locked up or worse. They need each other; they’re too broken up to make a whole person on their own. James and Winter weren’t even people before today, not really. Not ever.

And they’ll never be even now that they’re separate. They’ll mess things up so bad before they ever learn.

\--

“Yes we will. It’s only been _one_ day. Not even. It’ll take some time, but we’ll learn.” Bucky gives a small smile, more for James’ benefit than his own. “I _promise_.”

\--

 _I don’t want to,_ James thinks, but there’s no use in saying so. Bucky used to be a whole person. He’s better at it than James and Winter, and he’s Daddy’s favorite. So they’re going to have to be apart since that’s what he wants. And it’s not _fair_. But no one’s going to listen, and it might make Winter act bad again if James yells at Bucky.

So he doesn’t talk. He just clenches his hand up in the fabric of Bucky’s shirt and tries to stop thinking and feeling anything at all.

\--

Bucky sighs and turns to Steve. “I think we’re settled. Let’s get going.” They should get home as fast as possible. Get out of the stuffy car that has _way_ too many close encounters.

\--

Daddy doesn’t drive, though. He looks into the backseat again. “Winter?”

Winter isn’t answering. He’s staring out the window.

“Winter, you’re not in trouble,” Daddy says. “It’s okay. You can’t do that again, but I know you were just trying to help. Winter?”

\--

Winter glances at Steve and gives the smallest nod possible, before returning to staring at nothing. Steve won’t punish him properly and he’s not sure if he would _accept_ Bucky punishing him. He’ll wait. Maybe the Commander will punish him properly. He’ll stay quiet until then.

\--

“It’s not okay to grab somebody unless they’re about to hurt someone else,” Daddy says. “Or if they’re about to step in front of a car or something. But you’re not in trouble. It was just a mistake.”

Then he’s quiet. It feels like he’s quiet for a long time. And when Winter still doesn’t speak, he starts the car up again.

\--

Winter refuses to speak to Steve if he’s going to pretend like he shouldn’t be punished. It’s ridiculous. He needs punishment because he cannot control himself. He’s not _supposed_ to control himself, and now that Bucky is gone, and he’s all alone in his head, it’s even harder.

He needs maintenance. He will ask the commander and he will ask Stark.

\--

Nobody says anything on the drive back home. Daddy keeps looking in the rearview mirror, and James knows he’s using it to look at Winter instead of the road. James just closes his eyes, face against Bucky’s shirt, and tries to stop existing separately from the other two.

But by the time they get to the Tower, he’s still there. And Daddy doesn’t look any happier when he asks, “Still want to see Rumlow?”

\--

It’s the only time Winter perks up. He unwinds like a cat and says, “Yes. Now,” without looking at anybody. He’ll go alone if no one else wants to.

\--

“I don’t wanna walk,” James whispers. He tries to be happy about seeing the Commander, but he can’t. He’s just sad.

Everyone’s sad and it’s all his fault. If he hadn’t started crying, everything would be okay. But he did, so now everybody’s mad at Winter and Winter doesn’t want to talk to anybody else, and that includes James.

He wants Bucky Bear. But if he gets Bucky Bear, that will just make Winter feel worse.

\--

“I’ll carry you, bug. Okay? No need to worry.” Bucky slides out of the car, hefting James up into his arms slowly, being careful not to drop him with the odd balance that having only one arm brings. He loops him over onto his hip and relegates Steve to be in charge of carrying any of the bags.

He glances over at Winter, who has since gotten out of the car and seems… Small. Which is not a description that the Winter Soldier himself normally carries. He’s normally larger than life, a dark presence not unlike a black hole, removing the light and energy and making it colder. Right now? It’s like he’s trying not to even be there. Silent, still and so… So small.

It’s pitiful and Bucky has the automatic response of wanting to yell at him. Tell him he’s being childish and he can’t hurt the _actual_ child because of the bullshit that Hydra and Pierce taught him. There’s this low swirl of anger pooling in Bucky belly- It feels like a collage of red food coloring spreading through a cup of water. Slow and tumultuous but reaching in watery, voluminous threads of hatred and rage and anger.

He swallows, turning away. It’s not fair; none of it is. It’s not Winter’s fault he’s fucked up, and he can’t expect the Asset himself to act purely like a perfect person on the first day he’s been alone. But it’s also not fair that Bucky has to _cater_ to them, and it’s petty and stupid, but maybe-

Bucky hasn’t had the chance to get angry at them. Not in a long time. Occasionally it’ll flare up, but he usually suppresses it. For Steve’s sake. He never wanted to seem like he was _crazy_ , getting mad at portions of his body that aren’t even _him_.

It’s hard to suppress it now that it’s just his emotions coloring things. Now that the crazy is outside him, and it’s just _Bucky’s_ crazy influencing him.

None of this is fair- But it doesn’t matter. He has to calm down, especially if they’re visiting fucking _Rumlow_. “Do- Did you wanna grab Bucky Bear before we go up to see the Commander?” He asks, and his voice almost shakes for a second before righting itself as he pushes his emotions down.

\--

James wants Bucky Bear so badly it _hurts_. It’s an ache deep inside him, squeezing his stomach and burning in his bones like it did when he got stretched apart. His bear is soft and familiar and James needs to hold him, pretend that the bear still has a voice that can comfort him and make him feel safe again.

But Winter will be mad if James gets Bucky Bear. And Winter isn’t a _person_. He’s an asset. He’ll do something bad and Daddy won’t love him anymore. He’ll make him go away.

All because of James.

“No,” he whispers, pushing his face against Bucky’s shoulder.

He doesn’t even want to _see_ the Commander anymore; no one’s going to eat any pancakes and Rumlow will probably punish him for crying.

\--

“...Do you want Captain Ameribear, instead?” Clearly Bucky Bear is a sore subject right now. After the fit Winter practically threw, it would probably be a good idea to _not_ bring the stuffed animal along. Maybe the one modeled after Steve will be a little more positive.

\--

James nods. He doesn’t want Captain Ameribear, though. He wants _Bucky Bear_. And he wants Winter not to be sad, and he wants everything to be the way it was this morning. He wants to scream and scream until that makes the world fix itself somehow.

“I think after we see Rumlow, we should call your therapists,” Daddy says.

\--

Bucky sighs but nods, pulling James closer. “It’s. Probably a good idea.” He flits a look to Winter again, who seems to have flinched with his entire body, curling up even smaller into himself. Which just means they need to see them _more_ honestly.

He blinks and pulls James out from hiding in his shoulder, and whispers so only he will hear, “Do you think Winter wants Bucky Bear?”

\--

James stiffens. He thinks Winter wants Bucky Bear, definitely, but he doesn’t _know_ anymore. He can’t tell what Winter’s thinking. What if Winter gets mad and thinks they’re trying to force him back into the bear because he messed up? What if he _hurts_ Bucky Bear?

If anything happens to Bucky Bear, James will die. Just...die.

“Yeah,” he whispers back because Bucky will be mad if he doesn’t say anything. “But I don’t know if it’s safe.”

\--

Bucky glances to Winter again and then back at the child. “I don’t think he’ll hurt him. I think… He’s scared right now. And don’t you like the bear when you’re scared? And wasn’t that because Winter could be in the bear then and not be so scared himself?”

\--

“Uh-huh. And ‘cause Bucky Bear made me feel better. And you too.” Because Bucky Bear _did_ make him feel better when he was grown-up. He can remember the night before Thanksgiving, when he was big and Daddy gave him the bear, and he hugged it really tight and cried.

Bucky likes the bear. Just like him. Because they’re supposed to be all the same person.

\--

“Me too.” For a lot of reasons that James doesn’t consciously understand. For a lot of reasons _Bucky_ doesn’t understand. “Okay. We’ll go grab Bucky Bear and Captain Ameribear, then. And Winter will be happier.” He smiles at the boy, giving him a squeeze.

He looks up at Steve and says, “Okay. Me ‘n James’ll be right back. We gotta go grab some bears to go on a party with us at Rumlow’s.” Besides. Winter needed to be away from the two of them right now.

\--

“Okay,” Daddy says. “Should we go to Rumlow’s now, or wait for you?”

James decides that they need to get a bear for Bucky to hold too. He’s obviously not happy and he thinks he’s better off separate. If he just holds a bear, maybe he’ll understand how important bears are and all that he’s missing out on.

\--

Bucky shrugs. “Go on ahead. We’ll be like ten minutes, tops.” He gives Steve a _look_ \- Talk to Winter or _something_. He looks like he’s about to fucking collapse in on himself. He bounces James on his hip after a second and goes, “Alright. Let’s go, bug,” before getting the _fuck_ away from Winter and the anger in his belly.

\--

Steve waits to be sure that the kid won’t start wailing if he gets away from Winter before turning to face the man. It makes his heart ache just looking at him. Winter’s never looked less like a soldier than he does now, so diminished and frightened and confused.

Once in his youth, Steve had found a group of older boys tormenting a puppy. Tying cans on strings to the mutt’s tail and throwing rocks. Sick stuff like that. He’d chased them away. Or, more accurately, they’d beaten the shit out of him in the dog’s place. After they were gone, he’d found the puppy huddled behind a few garbage cans. The fear in the dog’s eyes--that’s what Winter looks like now.

Horrified. Hopeless. And above all, uncomprehending.

“Hey,” Steve says, as gently as he can. “Winter. I’m sorry I shouted at you. I should have known all of this would be overwhelming. I should have set ground rules before I made us do anything stressful like going out in public. What happened in the car? That was my fault, not yours. I didn’t give you any parameters to work in. I’m sorry.”

\--

“I disobeyed.” Winter says quietly, refusing to meet Steve’s eyes. That would be a challenge. He can’t look at Steve like he’s a person- He’s not. Now less than ever. He used to have portions of people inside him- Bucky, and then the facade and illusion of a person, James- but now he’s _just_ the Asset. Just the tool and weapon to be used. And it doesn’t matter that Steve didn’t tell him what was okay and what wasn’t- He disobeyed and damaged one of the _real_ people. “You have to punish me.”

\--

“ _Winter_.” Steve’s unable to keep his voice from cracking. “That’s not how things work anymore. And that’s never how they should have happened. You’re a person. You always have been--people just tricked you into thinking otherwise. I don’t _own_ you, and I’m not going to punish you. Not for disobeying or for anything else. That’s not how people should learn.”

\--

“I _can’t_ learn without proper maintenance!” Winter says and it’s louder than he meant, so he scrunches up even more. He gets down on the ground and sits with his ass planted against the car, knees drawn up to his chest. “I’m not a person,” He continues, softer, scared. “Not even a little bit.”

\--

“Winter.” Steve can’t help but kneel down, though he tries to keep a comfortable distance between them. He doesn’t want to make Winter panic more than he already is. “What happened to you--the things HYDRA did weren’t to _teach_ you. They only wanted to hurt you and scare you into obeying. They told you lies. And making you think that you aren’t a person? That was a lie. If you weren’t a person, you wouldn’t have saved me from drowning. You wouldn’t have stopped fighting or even talked to me on the bridge. Weapons don’t talk.”

\--

“Bucky, that was _Bucky_. He’s- He isn’t _here_ anymore. To remind me. He’s- He’s gone.” Winter pushes his face against the back of his knees so he won’t accidentally meet Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t- He’s trying not to shake but it’s so _hard_.

And Steve already thinks he’s weak but he has to _stop_. He’s being so bad, and horrible, and now James will realize what a monster he is. Bucky already knows, it’s why he hates Winter. But now James- And Steve- And. And maybe they’ll make him leave. He’s a monster. An animal. Something inhuman, and things like him don’t belong in houses. They belong in the wild where they won’t make a mess of anything important.

\--

“He’s not gone,” Steve insists. “He’s still here to help you. And so is James. And everyone here, we’ll all help you. It’ll be a little different now, but we’ll help. And we’ll do it by treating you like a _person_. You haven’t even spent a day in your own body yet, right? Mistakes are natural.” Some saying--Steve can’t even remember where he heard it--surfaces in his mind and he blurts out, “You know, to err is human.”

\--

Winter blinks at that last bit and peeks out of his knees at Steve. Just a moment. To try and figure out what that means. “I don’t- I’m not human. Bucky is. He was _in_ me. Now I’m- The Asset. Only. It is fine.” He just needs to know how to _be_ the best Asset for Steve. He can pretend to be a person if that’s what Steve wants but he’s- He _can’t_ be a real person, not really.

\--

“You can’t make a person _into_ a weapon.” Steve tries to keep his voice soft while still expressing conviction. He has no idea if it’s working or not. “If Bucky was a person--and he is, he was--you have to be too. People can’t turn into things that aren’t people, not outside of pretending. A person can be used as a weapon, sure. Just like a person can be used as a shield or...or pretend to be a cat. But at the end of the day, they’re not cats or shields. And they’re not weapons either. They’re people. Do you understand?”

Steve tries to stamp out the doubts creeping into his own mind. James and Winter...it’s not as if they’re separate people who were forced into Bucky’s body. They’re parts of Bucky, roles that he slips into whether by choice or by force. They’ve always _been_ Bucky, whether or not they knew it at the time. It wasn’t as if Bucky shut off when the kid came out to play; it was just that he decided he wanted to be five right then. Or that he thought he was supposed to be.

What if James and Winter can’t be whole on their own? Steve wants them to be their own people. To grow and learn and _heal_. And maybe Bucky could do all those things in one body too, but he doesn’t want to.

Or at least, the parts of him that _do_ want that are no longer attached.

\--

“Bucky isn’t a weapon. He’s weak. He’s ineffective and clouded with human judgment.” Winter mumbles this, like they’re facts he’s learned over the years. “They created me. Not a person. Created a- A weapon to use Bucky’s body. I’m not a _person_ , Steve. I can’t be. I _can’t_. I’ve never been one and- And it’s wrong to pretend. I- I need my proper function. Or I break down and I hurt the child today because I haven’t been maintained and I want to be the _bear_ again! I was safe, then.”

\--

Some deep, sick part of Steve wants to just _order_ Winter to be a person as if that could calm him. As if that wouldn’t send him into more of a panic at being given an impossible order.

All Steve wants is to _help_. But he can’t find any words that could settle Winter’s nerves. “You’re...you’re not _pretending_ , Winter. No one really knows what makes a person. Philosophers have devoted their whole lives to that question, and there’s still no one objective truth about it. Depending on what you believe, people came from dirt. Or dust. Or single-celled organisms over billions of years.” Steve shrugs, not even sure where he’s going with this. “If those things can make a person, why can’t a weapon? Even if you think you weren’t one before, look at yourself. You’re your own man now. You can be anything.

“And no one ever gave you real maintenance in all the time you’ve been here, did they? James would put the colander on Bucky Bear, but that wasn’t real. You didn’t need it. When you felt broken or erratic, James and Bucky helped keep you in check. They can still do that. They’ll just have to change their approach, that’s all. They can set you back on track and be the maintenance you need.”

\--

“I could- Could sleep and be different when I was with them. Now I’m always the Asset. Always- Always misbehaving. Weapons don’t wear _sweaters_ , or get jealous of bears. I’m- I’m _bad_. I need recalibration.” He huffs against his knees, calming some. He’s complaining still, which is bad, but Steve’s words are helping. At least a little.

He doesn’t want to see the therapists. They’ll tell him all the ways he can do _better_ and how to, but… Isn’t that going against his programming? It’s confusing, it all is, and… He just. He doesn’t know.

\--

Steve doesn’t feel calmer. If anything, his heart rate is picking up, mind in overdrive, criticizing every stupid word that comes out of his mouth and how it’s clearly not helping Winter. He wants to breathe slow and deep, wants to settle himself, but he’s afraid that if he does that, Winter will think that Steve’s angry with him.

“Okay,” he says. “So you’re the Asset now. And there’s no one else in there with you. But…” Steve’s stomach lurches. The last thing he wants to do is remind Winter of Pierce. He runs the risk of validating the awful things Pierce did in Winter’s mind, but he doesn’t know what else to do. Telling him to just _pretend_ to be someone else if he’s feeling overwhelmed isn’t healthy at all.

“The Asset liked and disliked things before,” Steve says. “I remember once, this song came on the radio, and Bucky said he’d heard it when he was the Soldier, with Pierce. Before Pierce wanted you to be a kid. And he liked the song. He said that before you were supposed to be five you had danced and laughed with Pierce sometimes, or made faces when you didn’t like food. And in Russia, you liked cigarettes, didn’t you? They let you choose the rewards you wanted after missions. And I know Bucky Bear had preferences. So why can’t you like sweaters?”

\--

He blinks and looks up at Steve. Listens closely to the way he’s speaking, the way he’s breathing. Steve is _worried_ and it makes Winter feel like utter shit all over again. Because- Because he’s gotta be right. He’s so worried, but he’s right.

Winter doesn’t believe him fully but- But he does have preferences. He doesn’t know how to get that concept across, though, so what he says is, “I was given much more freedom in Russia than I was here, under HYDRA.”

\--

“But you’re not with HYDRA now,” Steve says. He’s breathing a little easier. At least it seems like Winter’s taking some of what he says to heart, as best he can. Steve smiles, and it’s not forced. Not entirely. “You’re with me. With the Avengers. And if I don’t care that you have preferences, that you feel happy sometimes or jealous other times, then doesn’t that matter more than the way HYDRA did things?”

\--

“I can feel whatever I want?” That feels _wrong_. Half of what he feels is violence or jealousy or anger and hatred or nothing at all. That doesn’t- “That’s dangerous.”

\--

“It only seems dangerous now because you haven’t been allowed to express or own your feelings for so long,” Steve says. “You can _feel_ whatever you feel, Winter. Feelings aren’t wrong. But that doesn’t mean that acting on your feelings is always okay or safe. We can teach you what reactions are okay and how to help keep your emotions under control. But we’re not going to stop you from feeling. I want you to be free to feel anything at all.”

\--

“You’ll tell me what’s right and wrong.” He settles more and loses some of the tension in his body. Steve will still dictate proper responses to things. That’s okay.

\--

“I won’t tell you how to _feel_ ,” Steve stresses. “And I won’t force you to have certain opinions about certain things. But I can teach you how people are supposed to cope with emotions. Stuff like ‘it’s okay to be angry, but it’s not okay to hit someone out of anger. You don’t hit unless you’re defending yourself or another person.’ Like that.”

\--

He slowly nods and unwinds his body from the curled up position he’s in. Slowly, he stands back up, looking a little hesitant. He doesn’t know what to say so he says nothing, just turns around and walks forward to the door.

He’s got it. And- And Steve will tell him more later. Winter doesn’t believe he can be a person, but perhaps he can learn the proper responses and pretend to be one, emulate the behavior as much as possible. Maybe that’ll even result in a situation like James- A personality that _is_ a person. Winter’s good at that. he can pretend very well.

\--

“Is there anything you’d like before we go to see Rumlow?” Steve asks. Then, deciding that’s too open-ended of a question--and one that could easily result in Winter asking for recalibration or punishment--he continues. “A glass of water or something to eat, maybe?” The stress of the day could easily have made Winter fatigued, and water and food would both help with that.

“If you don’t want anything,” Steve adds, “that’s okay too.”

\--

“We must see the commander. He’ll get annoyed if we keep him waiting.” He shakes his head. “I’m fine.” He really is- Well. He’s probably vaguely dehydrated and hungry, but it doesn’t matter. It’s inconvenient. And if the child gets his way, then by the end of the night they’ll be stuffed full of the commander’s pancakes and possibly whatever alcohol he forces down their throats.

\--

“All right.” Steve follows after him. “But let me or someone else know if you do need anything later, okay? That’s your first lesson in being a person, Winter. People ask for things they need.”

He hopes Winter takes that at face value, and doesn’t point out that Tony regularly subsists on nothing but coffee for days when the tinkering mood strikes.


	4. Chapter 4

James can hear Bucky’s heartbeat as Bucky walks. His hips move every time he takes a step, and that jostles James a little, but the way Bucky’s walking, his steps are between each beat. James always settles back in time to hear the next thump.

He wonders if his heart is beating at the same time as Bucky’s, but he can’t let go to check the pulse in his neck. He’d lose his balance.

Bucky’s quiet. He hasn’t said anything at all since they left Winter and Daddy to go get the bears, and James thinks he’s mad. Maybe at Winter, but probably at James. If James hadn’t started crying, none of this would have happened.

James has to be quiet now too. If he makes Bucky any angrier, he won’t be allowed to stay.

He listens to the heartbeat, head against Bucky’s chest, and his breathing gets slower as they move. He tries to take breaths in time with Bucky, tries to say _I’m still supposed to be a part of you_ without speaking.

\--

There is something monumentally amazing about holding a child, any child, but especially this one. He’s so small now- James always carried himself small, even in Bucky’s body, but now he’s the actual size of a five year old, and it’s- Bucky likes it. He thinks it’s perfect- That James can finally be his proper size and hopefully get more comfortable.

Both of them are quiet, but it’s okay. After the calamity of the car, it’s nice to just be quiet and listen to one another’s breathing, get to the destination without being absolutely monumentally ridiculous with every emotional response.

When they get to the room where all the bears and toys are, he slowly sets James back down and opens the door. “Go grab ‘em, kiddo.”

\--

“Do you want a bear?” James asks. Bucky needs a bear. Maybe holding one will make him remember how nice it is to have bears to talk to and play with and all the other stuff that grown-ups don’t do unless they’re humoring kids. And that might make him start to miss being all one person.

James can’t say any of that, though, not without making Bucky mad. He stares down at the floor. “I mean...so Winter knows it’s okay for him to have the bear? It’s something people can have, not just kids?”

\--

Clearly, the kid wants him to have a bear. Probably because of some convoluted reason- He can remember quite a few of the thought processes of James’ plans, and many of them were odd, lacking in sense, and also the _most important thing in the world ever_ to him.

And like he’s one to say no to the kid who practically got strangled in the car. “Sure, bug. Which one do you think I should have?”

\--

“Um.” James stares at the bears all over the floor. He’s going to hold Captain Ameribear, and Winter’s going to hold Bucky Bear. James really wanted to hold Bucky Bear, but that would make Winter so upset, and so James will just have to hug him really tight on the way to the Commander’s.

But first he has to pick the right bear for Bucky. It’s really important.

Falcon Bear makes all the other bears feel better, but what if he makes Bucky feel better the wrong way, and Bucky gets even more sure that they’re better off separate? Iron Bear is really irresponsible, but he’s not very cuddly. Neither is War Machine Bear.

Bear Widow, James decides. That will make Bucky think about Natasha, and how he won’t be the one who gets to play with Tasha now that they’re all separated. That will make him jealous.

He scoops up all three bears, which isn’t easy with just one hand, and walks back to Bucky.

\--

“Decided? I get Nat then, huh.” Bucky smiles at the kid and carefully scoops him back up, settling them both so they’ll be comfy and none of the bears will fall to the ground. “You feel better now that you got your buddies with you? Let’s go.”

\--

James snuggles up against Bucky Bear as much as he can while Bucky’s holding him. Bucky Bear feels soft and warm and...not _right_ , but as close to right as James can get right now. He just has to hope that the bears and pancakes fix things.

Assuming anyone else will be willing to play along.

“Do you still like pancakes?” James whispers.

\--

Bucky looks down at him and gives a small, tentative smile as he maneuvers to close the door without fucking up his hold on James. “Yeah. They’re good. Steve ever tell you how we’d make ‘em when we had the money to get all the ingredients? We’d have breakfast on Sundays, when neither of us was workin’, and we’d get up and make pancakes, and uh, biscuits and whatever else we could find.” he smiles and bounces the kid a little. “You probably like ‘em ‘cause I do.”

\--

James considers this. If all the parts that make him came from the Winter Soldier, and the Winter Soldier was Bucky when Bucky wasn’t allowed to be Bucky, then probably everything he likes comes from Bucky somehow.

Maybe Bucky won’t be able to like things anymore now that Winter and James are separate. Then he’ll have to want to fix this.

“Did they have chocolate chips back then?”

\--

“Probably. I mean- Yeah. But. It was a little expensive. We just stuck with the pancakes themselves. Syrup if we were lucky. Still good, though. Even without the chocolate, I promise.” Bucky smiles again, glad the kid seems to be feeling at least a _little_ better.

\--

“What kind of syrup?” James asks. He’s kind of curious now, despite needing to stay focused on a plan to fix things. Now that he’s not a part of Bucky, he can’t really remember anything from before the war. There are bits and pieces, but James guesses those are just memories he regained before they split or stories that Daddy told him. He wants to know more.

And he also wants to know if he and Bucky like the same syrup.

\--

“Hm. Maple. We got it a lot when we were younger. Me ‘n Steve couldn’t afford it after a while, but… A pancake’s a pancake, whether it’s got syrup or not.” He shrugs.

\--

“I like maple,” James says. Bucky Bear doesn’t agree, but that’s just because Bucky Bear doesn’t eat anything besides honey. Once, James had worried about that because Bruce got him a book about bears and it said they eat fish and all kinds of things. But Tony said that teddy bears were different.

\--

“Yeah, it’s pretty awesome. I’ve felt sick, eating too much syrup before. It’s great.”

\--

James doesn’t think that sounds great at all, but he doesn’t say so. Bucky is thinking about pancakes now, so James needs to keep him thinking about them, and not mess things up by arguing about whether or not it’s good to get sick from syrup.

“Which one of you made pancakes?” he asks.

\--

“Me.” Bucky says proudly, grinning. “Steve’s gotten decent at making some food these days, but then? He was a walking disaster. I’m surprised at how decent he got at cooking. But, bug, I’ll cook you something soon and you’ll see how _bad_ Steve is.”

\--

“He makes apples into bunny rabbits,” James says. He doesn’t understand how Bucky can say that Daddy can’t make food when he can make apples into bunnies. Or sandwiches that look like princesses. James considers such things to be the greatest culinary achievement ever. Daddy should probably get a cooking show just on virtue of that.

He doesn’t mention the sandwiches, though, because they’re almost at the Commander’s room.

\--

“That requires a knife, not any cooking skills, James. Steve doesn’t have to be great at everything.” He opens the door carefully, not bothering to knock- It took them a good fifteen minutes to get to the bears and walk here, so he’d be surprised if Steve and Winter aren’t already there.

He hears an annoyed grunt and something that sounds suspiciously like complaining, but he ignores it in favor of setting James down onto the ground and closing the door behind him.

\--

“But he is,” James mutters. He almost says that Daddy can still do that when Bucky can’t, because Bucky can’t hold knives, but maybe that’s not a rule for Bucky anymore. Maybe it’s just for Winter.

“Here.” He kind of smacks Bucky in the leg with Bear Widow to get him to take her. He needs to give Bucky Bear to Winter right away, so Winter won’t think James is replacing him, but the Commander is staring at them and James doesn’t want to ignore the Commander.

“Uh. Hi.”

\--

“...Almost thought Rogers was lying, considering.” Brock looks at Winter, who’s on the couch and slowly taking the tags off one of his longer, thicker sweaters- One that sort of looks like a grey poncho with a big, loose turtleneck-like neckline- then back at the other two…. Bucky’s. One is almost like Winter. At least, an adult. No arm, though, and he looks like pictures he’s seen of Barnes. Looks a lot like the drawings Brock has sneaked glances at, when he’s in bed with Steve, too.

But the _kid_. Well. The kid is actually _five_ and he can feel his heart skip a beat. He’s adorable and _actually_ five. He hopes the kid can’t remember anything for _shit_ , because if he can… Well. That’s just-

Brock shakes the thought from his mind immediately. He doesn’t need to be thinking utter shit, especially if Bucky, who is the only one actively hostile towards him, is here, whole and his own person. So he smiles a little, a crooked thing as he leans carefully against the counter separating the kitchen from the living room. He doesn’t realize there’s a smear of flour across his nose; Steve had texted him, telling him to _fucking make pancakes or else_ (well, that was the sentiment, if not the language used), crinkling up and falling to the counter when he smiles.

“You’re _tiny_.” He blinks, trying to school his words and mentally putting blocks on saying any of the normal vitriolic shit that falls out of his mouth. “How you gonna eat pancakes when your belly’s that tiny?”

\--

James smiles, but he does feel really little, and he can tell that Daddy and Bucky are looking at him while the Commander’s talking. He ducks his head down, hiding his face. Everything’s so _big_ now and he feels so exposed. Vulnerable.

He wants to ask the Commander to pick him up, but he doesn’t know if the Commander can without hurting himself, no matter how small he is.

“Make smaller pancakes,” James says, still not looking up. He wants to hug onto the Commander, but instead he goes to the couch to give Winter his bear.

\--

Brock grins and laughs a little- He’s _trying_ , okay, trying not to be a dick when everything’s so fucking weird. And he has to admit- The kid is cute. And is an actual kid now. It’s way easier to talk to a kid and _see_ a kid in return.

Winter is… Not as easy. Well. Brock knows how to talk to him, knows how he works and how to interact with him, but he can’t just. Act like he was before. Things are new now, and he’s _not_ , actually, his commander, or his keeper or handler.

And he’s different now, anyways. He watches Winter take the bear and squeeze it to his chest for a moment, silent, before he sets it down, pulls the sweater over his head, and then scoops up first the bear and then James into his lap. His hearing ain’t _great_ anymore, but he’s pretty sure he can hear a soft, almost nonexistent “ _thank you_ ” leaving the Asset’s mouth.

This is all _weird_ , but. Almost good.

\--

Daddy’s here too; James sees him when Winter picks him up. He’s sitting in a soft chair in the corner, and he looks really tired.

James should have brought more bears.

“Your sweater’s really soft,” he tells Winter, giving Captain Ameribear a squeeze. Then he leans his head back, staring over Winter’s shoulder upside down at the Commander. “Are there chocolate chips?”

\--

“When _aren’t_ there. You tell me to buy chocolate chips every time you’re here. I also got some butterscotch, and strawberries.” Brock snorts, and Winter looks over at him for a moment before returning his gaze to James.

“It is.” He pulls the neckline out a little and rubs it against James’ cheek. “Very warm. No cold. I verified that there were chocolate chips.” Or. More accurately, threatened to _make_ Brock _into_ chocolate chips if he didn’t have any. Which doesn’t make sense and he’s pretty sure the commander wanted to laugh while he pulled out a two pound bag.

\--

“Do you feel better?” Daddy asks, and James isn’t sure if he’s the one Daddy means or Winter, but he nods.

“Pancakes fix everything.”

At least, he hopes they will.

He plays with Captain Ameribear’s feet and cuddles up against Winter’s sweater for a minute in silence. Then a thought occurs to him, and he talks without thinking. “If I’m actually five, Daddy, can you and the Commander adopt me?”

\--

Brock splutters in the kitchen and there’s the very distinct sound of a pan falling to the floor in utter shock. He- He slowly picks it up and pretends like he _didn’t_ just hear those words come out of the kid’s mouth. He’s just _met_ the kid, really actually met him, and he wants- “Why’re you saying that?”

\--

James pouts. He thought the Commander liked him. “Because you’re my Daddy’s boyfriend. And you’re nice.” He doesn’t understand why the Commander’s so weird about it. That’s what grown-ups do when they’re in love. They have kids.

“James,” Daddy says. He looks pale. “It takes a lot of paperwork to adopt a kid. Birth certificates and the consent of the birth mother and all kinds of things. We don’t have those for you. At least, no one would look at Bucky’s birth certificate and believe it’s for you.”

James thinks they could have Tony fake all that, but he doesn’t say so because everybody seems against it. At least maybe now they’ll be more eager to fix this.

\--

“Besides,” Brock says, now that he’s recovered just a little. He looks redder than usual. “Me and, uh, Steve- We.” He pauses, sighs. Like he doesn’t even know how to _react_. “That would make me your _dad_. And I’m not a dad, arright?” Maybe that’s good enough. He doesn’t know.

\--

“You’re afraid of commitment,” James says. He doesn’t know what that means, but grown-ups say it a lot when they argue in some of the shows that Pepper watches.

It makes Daddy laugh, though, so maybe it’s not the scathing retort that James thought it was.

\--

Brock glares at Steve, and goes a little stiff. How the fuck does the five year old get him so easily? This is frustrating. “You want pancakes, kid? Shut up about my relationships.”

\--

James frowns. He didn’t mean to make the Commander mad at him. His eyes feel hot and James clings tighter to Captain Ameribear, trying to hide his face again. He’s too small. Everything hurts too much now.

He can feel Winter’s hands tighten around him as Daddy says, “Brock. Seriously?”

\--

“Fuck off, Steve. Seriously gonna bring up adoption first thing? What’ya expect me to say?” He shakes his head, trying to focus back on mixing the stupid goddamn pancake batter.

“You could try not to be a colossal dick to a five year old.” Bucky sneers, then clicks his tongue, putting a finger up and saying, “Oh, wait. Profiting off being a shitty person towards him has been your primary job for years now.”

\--

“I expect you not to snap at a little kid who thinks you’re the greatest thing since sliced bread,” Daddy says at the exact same time that Bucky talks.

“Don’t fight,” James whispers, but it comes out so small that he doesn’t think even Captain Ameribear can hear it. He’s too little to do anything anymore.

\--

Winter holds him tight and very slowly pulls him closer to his chest. He says nothing, but slowly hands Bucky Bear back to him, nestling him up right next to Captain Ameribear. And then he turns his face to glare at Brock, so, so still.

“What, you expect me to be _perfect_ to all the facets of the man I helped fuck up? What’d you expect, bringing them here? That we’d have the best dinner ever, and everything is _perfect_? Dunno ‘bout you, Steve, but I’m not a Norman Rockwell piece, and neither is the man who is now _three_ fucked up people instead of one.” Brock retorts almost immediately, and if feels _good_ to just argue, to fight. He hasn’t in a while, he’s been _good_ , and he knows he should stop, _needs_ to stop. But he can’t.

\--

“He wanted to see you,” Daddy retorts. “He begged to! What, you think I pushed for this? It’s not like pancakes with _you_ was a high priority after this happened. I was just trying to give him a little bit of comfort, but I don’t know why I ever thought you could give it to him! ”

“Stop it,” James whispers, but the words are muffled against his bears. He tries to pretend that Bucky Bear’s saying it’s okay, but he’s too busy hearing the awful things people are saying to pretend that he hears anything else.

\--

“I don’t either, Steve! You gotta lot of trust in me, bringing a _child_ and the fucking _Soldier_ to my floor.” He shakes his head and the sound of him stirring the pancake batter is _loud_. Way louder than it needs to be. “You have _terrible_ taste in men, just so you know.”

\--

“I hadn’t noticed,” Daddy snaps.

“Stop it,” James whispers. Maybe Winter can hear him, but no one else can. And Winter might think he’s not allowed to do anything after what happened earlier. “Tell them to stop it.”

\--

Winter looks down at James and frowns, then looks at the Commander and Steve, respectively. He can’t- But. James is important, very important, so he slowly stands up, setting the child down in the cushions that he was sitting on a moment before, so he’ll be warm. He moves across the floor, ending up standing on the other side of the counter that separates the kitchen from the living room. “Stop talking. You’re upsetting James.” He has a hand wrapped on the counter and it’s groaning, close to break.

\--

“I’m sorry,” Daddy says at once. “James--Winter, it’s okay. We’ll stop right now. I’m so sorry, James. We didn’t mean to make you upset.”

James squeezes the bears and looks up. The yelling’s over now, but the Commander will still be mad. If they were all one person still, then Bucky could have stopped James from saying anything so stupid to begin with. Bucky would have known better.

James doesn’t know anything.

\--

Brock huffs and rolls his eyes, turning his gaze away from Steve and the Buckys’. Whatever. Fuck, he didn’t want to argue anyways. But he’s- He’s a little strained at the edges, thinking that the three personalities are now exactly three people. It just- It was easier, when it was just one. When the abuse he suffered was still contained into the image of one single man, a man who looked, usually, like he could handle it.

It’s a little harder to look at an actual five year old and not be reminded of his compliance with his fucked up existence.

He focuses, instead, on trying to mix the batter.

\--

James stares down at the bears in his lap, because Winter isn’t sitting back down yet. He tries to think of what Bucky Bear would say, if Bucky Bear could still speak.

Bucky Bear would probably want him to apologize to the Commander. Bucky Bear likes the Commander a lot.

Captain Ameribear thinks the Commander’s a big jerk and James should go sit on Bucky’s lap.

James decides to just not do anything and wait for somebody else to tell him what to do.

\--

Winter looks back at James for a moment, before he steps closer to the kitchen. Brock eyes him warily, but he doesn’t come _that_ close, just. Watches him mix the batter for a moment, before saying, “You have to put chocolate in half of them. Strawberries in the other half.”

“...Oookay.” Brock says slowly, blinking.

“James wants them. He must be happy.” There’s a threat underlying his words, and Winter knows that Brock knows he could crush his throat in a second. He wouldn’t, he’s too loyal to the commander for that, but a few harsh syllables don’t hurt anyone. In fact, it usually speeds things up. He gives a sharp nod of acceptance when he sees Brock move to grab chocolate chips and a container of strawberries, slicing the latter up to prepare for grilling.

\--

So much for everybody eating the same pancakes and turning back into the same person. Both bears agree that this is horribly unfair and James definitely needs a hug from somebody, so he slides off the couch and walks over to Bucky. If he goes to Daddy, the Commander might get annoyed again.

“What happened to our clothes?” he asks. It doesn’t seem like anybody remembered to carry the bags in after everything that happened in the car, but Winter has his sweaters, so they must have gone somewhere. James kind of wants his bear sweater. Winter’s right about soft things being the best.

\--

Bucky shrugs at the kid and turns to look at Winter, who’s still watching Brock stonily. “Winter.” He waits for the Asset to actually turn to him, cocking his head. “Where’s the clothes?”

Winter points to an empty area near the couches, where the bags have been laid out neatly.

\--

James sets the bears at Bucky’s feet and digs through the clothes until he finds his sweater. He gets the shirt he’s wearing now halfway off before it gets stuck around his head. His fingers seem clumsy and small now, and his efforts to free himself just lead to ineffectual flailing.

Bucky Bear is probably judging him harshly.

\--

Winter hurries over to him immediately, helping him get out of the shirt before he starts crying. If he started crying, it would be so _bad._ As soon as he’s got the shirt off of him, he folds it up and puts it into one of James’ bags. “Do you need more help? Putting it on?”

\--

“No!” James says. He doesn’t mean to, it just comes out. His face is hot and he feels so _mad_ , but he does need help. It’s too hard to put shirts on when he’s this little and he’s missing an arm. “I mean. Yeah. Sorry.”

“Are you tired, James?” Daddy asks.

He shakes his head. He’s not tired. Maybe he’s just too small for his emotions now. He got littler and his feelings stayed big.

\--

Winter sits on the ground next to James, trying to get himself back onto a similar level to the child. “What shirt?”

\--

“The one with the bear,” James whispers. “‘Cause it’s soft.”

He feels like he should go back over to Bucky and get the Bucky Bear to give back to Winter, to apologize. He feels like he should get Winter some honey. But he doesn’t want to move around with his shirt off. He already felt so exposed with all his clothes on.

\--

Winter nods and grabs the sweater that’s sitting on the bag, then slowly helps James get his arm and head through the proper holes. He frowns at the long empty sleeve, and ends up haphazardly tying it up in a knot, so it won’t get in the way of him.

\--

“Thanks,” James whispers. He doesn’t retrieve the bears even now that he’s dressed, though. He just slides onto Winter’s lap again. He feels warm, cuddling up to Winter’s sweater. He feels kind of safe.

“It’s been a long day,” Daddy says. He sounds apologetic, but James doesn’t know who he’s apologizing to. Maybe the Commander. Maybe everyone.

\--

Winter blinks at James, considering he’s… Well, he’s crouched on the floor, and yet the child has already opted to use his lap as his chair. It’s uncomfortable. He ignores it, instead turning around in an awkward scuttle so that the two of them can face the others in the room.

It has been a long day. But- He’s starting to appreciate it. James is clearly overwhelmed, but that’s because he’s a _child_. Bucky is ecstatic. He’s never _seen_ Bucky before today, but he knows the tells for his relaxed and content states. And he’s more relaxed than he’s ever been, when they were one person.

He feels a stab of guilt, knowing that’s his fault. That his murderous whispers and intents and _orders_ and _programming_ kept Bucky locked away in hell for years. Winter feels his hand clench up, but he forces it to relax, instead reaching to smooth fingers through James’ hair. Something soft. Gentle.

Winter latches onto the commander when he sees him shrug. “Isn’t it always a long day with you?” He says, which makes Winter frown, but. It’s true.

\--

“Tony’s making me a new arm,” James says, because no one else is saying anything. Plus, it’s important. He needs an arm. Otherwise he can’t put on shirts by himself or hug all his bears at once. Although maybe he can’t do that now even with two arms. The arm he has is a lot shorter than it used to be. “It’s gonna look like Winter’s. Whenever it’s done.”

He doesn’t understand why it can’t be done _now_. Bucky said it would take time, but it’s probably already been four whole hours, and James’s arm is a lot smaller than Winter’s anyway. Isn’t that enough time?

Did an hour used to seem this long? Maybe it just seems like it’s been forever because so many things are happening, and almost none of them make sense.

\--

“You want it to look all…. Dangerous and metallic?” Bucky asks. “Y’know Tony can probably render some like…. Artificial skin. Or something. Who knows.” But that _weapon_ , that _thing_ , on the arm of a five year old is….. Disturbing. Hell, on Winter it’s disturbing.

\--

“But that’s how my arm’s always looked,” James protests. He wasn’t around back when his old body had both arms made of skin and bone. His left hand’s always been metal and shiny, and he wants it back as much as he wants his body how it was before.

But his last daddy hadn’t liked the metal arm when he wasn’t being the asset. It was cold and hard and everything little boys aren’t. Maybe James shouldn’t want it back now. What if nobody likes it?

He doesn’t want to think about his, and he tries to crawl under Winter’s sweater instead.

\--

Winter looks down at him, frowning as he squirms. He pulls him closer, using this as an excuse to scoop him up and stand up, getting out of the uncomfortable position. He moves them back to the couch, and pulls James under the sweater, like he clearly wants.

“Don’t worry, _mishka_ , you will have the most beautiful metal arm. Better than mine, even, if Stark is making it.” He doesn’t often compliment Stark, if ever, but… He has to admit the man knows what he’s doing. Not to mention, it will make the child feel better.

\--

Hiding under sweaters, James decides, is the best thing ever.

He was always too big to do it before. He could hide under blankets, but that wasn’t the same. Blankets don’t have body heat. Once he gets back to normal, maybe he’ll have Daddy get under the blanket that he’s hiding under too. That might feel the same.

“You okay, James?” Daddy asks.

“Uh-huh.”

“I think you were bigger when you were five,” Daddy says. He must be talking to Bucky. “But maybe I was just that much smaller.”

\--

Bucky flicks a glance to the sweater-covered kid, then back to Steve. “Maybe a bit of both. He is pretty scrawny. Like I can remember, though. You were _tiny_ , from what I remember.” He smiles a bit, trying to push his memory back that far. It’s hard. Certain memories are kinda difficult to access, even now. Even separated. But he faintly remembers how small and frail Steve used to be, way smaller than James even.

\--

“I’m supposed to be little,” James says loudly, not moving from under the sweater. He feels angry again, though not as mad as he was when he was trying to put on his sweater. He’s not _scrawny_. He’s what he’s supposed to be. His last daddy probably would have liked it, except he’s not here. And everybody says he’s never coming back.

Except something split them up and they don’t even know _what_ , and if there’s stuff out there that can make two whole new bodies out of nothing, there’s probably stuff that can bring dead people back. James whimpers, scared and loud, and shuts his eyes tight.

\--

Winter’s hand, which was in James’ hair, freezes, and he pulls the sweater open to look down at James. “What’s wrong?” He asks, so, so worried. He doesn’t want- He hopes he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t want them all to get in trouble _again_. He’s still waiting for when Steve will realize they need to be punished, and it will happen all the sooner if James decides to _cry_ right now. “Are you hurt?”

\--

“James?” He can hear Daddy standing up, and probably Bucky and the Commander are staring too. “What happened? We weren’t making fun of you, I swear.”

“What if my last daddy comes back?” James whispers. He’d be really mad at James if he came back, and Winter too, because Winter was supposed to kill Daddy. And he probably wouldn’t like Bucky at all.

Plus, if he comes back now, everything would hurt way more.

“James,” Daddy says. “Alex is dead, remember? He can’t hurt you.”

“And a person can’t split up into three people!” James pushes up against Winter’s chest. Maybe he can burrow back inside him the way he couldn’t with Bucky. “But we’re still here.”

\--

“James,” Brock says slower, his voice just a little strained. “I promise you he’ll never come back. And if somehow he does? He’ll be dead again before he has the chance to even _look_ at you.” He lets out a long, slow breath, hands stilled in the bowl. He _was_ getting ready to push a dollop of batter onto the skillet, but he’s just standing there now, looking into the living room, specifically James, with this angry look. Like he’s livid just at the possibility.

\--

“Brock’s right,” Daddy says, and James can feel Daddy’s hand pet his hair through the sweater. Like a cat under a blanket. “We will never, ever let him or anybody else hurt you again. I swear.”

But Daddy couldn’t stop whatever split them up. He couldn’t even _see_ it. It could have been James’s last daddy already. Maybe he just wants the Winter Soldier and the little boy, without Bucky’s memories around to mess stuff up.

Daddy sighs. “We do need to figure out what caused this,” he says, like he could read James’s mind. “There’s no way this was some freak occurrence. But what would anyone gain from this?”

\--

Winter leans in to where James is hiding, murmuring softly, “He may have been our master at one point, but if he were to return, he would feel the pain he has caused us, mishka.” He would make him hurt for ever harming a _boy_ , for turning Bucky Barnes into a monster like him. He did not so much care about the state of his own mind, but the perversions involved in harming James? In twisting Bucky into a monster? He would pay, if he ever returned. His hand tightens where he’s holding James, and he has to forcibly relax, calm down before he gets worked up and lets his emotions spill over.

He flicks his eyes over when Brock starts speaking, the quiet sound of the batter popping and hissing on the stove the only other sound besides their breathing, their talking, their thoughts. “Nah, someone clearly _did_ this.” His voice is still in that casual drawl, but there’s something tenser, more official about it. Like he’s trying to be the Commander again, even when the matter doesn’t _really_ concern him. “Maybe some fringe group from HYDRA? There were some f- messed up divisions. This kinda experimentation might be right up their alley.”

\--

“But to what end?” Daddy asks. “They’re not here to observe the effects. If they want the Winter Soldier, they haven’t made any moves to collect him. And if this is a distraction, what are they trying to avert our attention from?”

James doesn’t want to think about HYDRA sneaking in to steal Winter. He definitely doesn’t want to think about the awful things that could be happening while Daddy’s worrying about them. And he realizes he doesn’t want to think about Winter hurting his last daddy either. He’s scared and he doesn’t want to see him again, but James doesn’t want him to get hurt either. He was really nice sometimes.

So instead of thinking about any of those things, James just closes his eyes and focuses really hard on how soft Winter’s sweater is.

\--

Brock shrugs, flipping the pancake over, hardly paying attention to the cooking, and more on thinking, _thinking_. “ _That_ , I have no idea. Could’ve always been a mistake. Just- I’d up any security. Maybe they’re just waiting. It’s not even been a day, right? Could always be mobilizing, setting the plan in place, letting you get comfortable.”

\--

James doesn’t realize he’s made a noise, but then Winter’s patting his back through the sweater and Daddy’s saying, “James, I promise nothing’s going to hurt you,” so he must have whimpered.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. If somebody’s trying to catch them off guard, then he shouldn’t be distracting everybody by whining.

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Daddy says. “This isn’t your fault. And nobody’s going to trick us. Tony’s still looking into this. He and Jarvis will be checking out everything, I promise. No one’s going to sneak anything past us.”

\--

“Everything’s fine.” Bucky affirms. “Rumlow’s just overhyping everything.” He really, _really_ isn’t, but there’s literally no reason to talk of battle plans and HYDRA fringe groups in front of a five year old that has already had to _deal_ with those crazies for years. “We can’t do anything until Tony gets back to us, anyways, so let’s just enjoy the food, okay? Calm down.”

\--

“I’m not a _baby_ ,” James protests, sticking his head out from under Winter’s sweater. “I used to go on missions all the time. I know that none of this is good.”

“That doesn’t mean that we should sit around and worry about it,” Daddy says. “Tony’s already increased security. We’ll figure out what’s going on, and no one is going to hurt any of you. So let’s think about better things, okay?”

James doesn’t answer. He still thinks the best way to keep everyone safe is to put the three of them back together.

\--

Winter looks down at him and gives one of his non-smiles, saying, “It wasn’t you on those missions, James.” The idea of James, the five year old, on a mission is… Terrifying. He remembers it happening once, slipping into that mentality and the commander and Agent Rollins having to deal with it but… But it was the Soldier, the Asset on the majority of those missions. Thank god. “And _that_ is a good thing to come from this predicament.”

\--

“I still _remember_ stuff, though,” James protests. He was usually little right after those missions, before he could go to the chair. It’s not like he didn’t know what he’d been doing before he was cuddling with his bunny or eating cookies.

Except...he doesn’t remember. Not anymore. There are still bits and pieces of missions, pictures of bloody bodies in his head and the names and uses of various weapons, but now it’s like trying to remember a dream hours after waking up. It feels far away and almost not real.

James can’t help but whimper again, hand clamped to his head.

\--

Winter pulls him closer, up and out of the sweater so he can pull the boy against his chest. He holds him close by a hand to the back of his head, and murmurs, “Try to forget. It’s better to forget.” If he could erase any remnants of non-childlike behavior from his mind, he would. Winter does not mind bearing the brunt of brutality for his memories, but the child should…. He should be pure.

\--

“But what if I forget everything?” James is trembling. “What if Bucky forgets it’s not the forties and I forget I’m not with my last daddy and you forget that you’re not HYDRA’s anymore? This is _dangerous_. What if that’s what the people who did this want?”

\--

“.... We will learn. We are allowed to learn, now.” Winter says quietly, still so quietly, and there’s a soft tension radiating from him because he doesn’t _know_. He doesn’t. James could be right. This could peel apart their minds slowly but more sure than the electricity from the chair.

Bucky clears his throat and says, “No offense, but even if I forget _Winter’s_ memories, there’s no way I’m forgetting that it’s the 21st century. There’s sh- tech everywhere.” He blinks. “Point is, even if we woke up not even knowing ourselves, we’d learn. Steve’ll be here, and Jarvis will remind us, and- And I don’t think we’re _gonna_ forget anything, James.” He hopes, for his sake, that James does forget any time as the Asset. Makes new memories that are better.

\--

But James already has forgotten. And he must still be frowning, because Daddy says, “If you want, James, I can have Tony take a closer look at you. Not with needles or anything. Maybe just some scans to figure out more about how your brain is making memories and storing them, okay? I’ll bet he can do that.”

James doesn’t _want_ any scans, but that would give him a chance to talk to Tony, and probably to do it alone. And then he can find a way to fix things.

He just shrugs. “Can I have pancakes now?”

\--

“Pancakes coming right up. Come get a plate, James.” Brock says from the kitchen. He’s made several now, and the big serving plate is slowly getting higher and higher with pancakes. Some with chocolate, some plain and some with strawberries grilled to the bottom of the batter. Say what you want about him, but he can cook a mean fucking pancake.

\--

“Can you pick me up?” James asks. He doesn’t mean right now, not exactly, but he’d thought about it earlier. But maybe the Commander can’t because he’s all scarred up. Either way, James should still be able to sit on his lap, which he decides is exactly what he’s going to do when he eats his pancakes.

The Commander owes it to him anyway, since he won’t adopt James.

\--

“Uh, I’m a little busy, kiddo.” As in, directly in front of a stove top. “The Asset can bring you in here, if you really wanna be carried.” Needy kid. Brock hopes so, honestly. The kid deserves to be the most high-maintenance brat in the world. Not that he _should_ be, but he deserves it.

\--

“I didn’t mean right _now_.” His voice is snappier than he meant for it to be. What’s _wrong_ with him? James never used to get so mad so fast when they were all one person. Unless he’s forgotten that too. He frowns, hiding back under Winter’s sweater. He’s probably actually falling apart.

\--

“Fine! Sheesh. You name a time and a place when I’m not standing near a very hot stove and sure. I can uh. Pick you up.” Not that he’s deserving of it. But if the kid wants him to hold him, he will. “Not sure I’m gonna be a great…. Holder? What- Why do you want me to pick you up, anyhow?”

\--

“‘Cause I wanna,” is all James says. He can’t say because Jack used to. That’ll make the Commander sad and it’ll make James sad, and when James is sad then Winter gets scared. He shuts his eyes, head resting against Winter’s chest.

“You didn’t sleep very well last night, did you?” Daddy asks. “All of you, I mean?”

“So?” James doesn’t want to think about when they were all one person. It’ll just make him upset.

“So I think you haven’t had enough sleep for how little you are now,” Daddy says softly.

“I’m not sleeping when there’s pancakes.”

\--

“After, then. When your belly is full and your mind is quiet.” Winter says to him, rubbing his back slowly, cautiously. He’s still so afraid of hurting him on accident.

\--

“What about you?” It’s not fair if he has to sleep when Bucky and Winter get to do whatever they want. He’s just as old as they are. He’s just smaller now. But it’s not fair if he’s the only one who has to have naps. He’ll miss everything.

\--

“Do you want me to sleep with you, _mishka_?” Winter asks slowly, quietly. His voice has steadily quieted and softened the more he’s spoken to James throughout the day, perhaps the most overt amount of gentleness and softness that the Asset has ever displayed. He cares for the child and wants him to have a non-stressful life.

\--

“I don’t want to miss anything.” James sighs. “I’ll miss everything if I sleep more than you and Bucky. We’re supposed to do stuff together.” Like eat the same pancakes. But that’s already messed up, just like everything else.

\--

“You need to sleep. Your body is smaller now and your head needs more sleep.” Winter says. “Children sleep on average, ten hours. That is much more than we, as a whole, ever got.”

\--

“But we’re supposed to be the _same_.” James really can’t keep from pouting. “It’s not fair if I’m the only one who has to be different. None of this is fair.”

Daddy’s standing up. “Let’s get you some pancakes, okay? We’ll figure all of this out, James. Promise.”

“You’ve been saying that all day.”

\--

Winter looks to Steve and then stands up, pulling James in a better position to hold. He carries him over to the Commander’s rather small table, setting him in the chair at the head. “Pancakes will make you feel better. Sugar is good, right now.”

He blinks as the Commander steps around the kitchen and comes to the table with a plate full with a small stack. He straightens up a little, subconsciously, his training knowing that he shouldn’t be relaxed around the commander. It isn’t- It’s important to be a perfect weapon.

“Eat up, kiddo.” Brock says.

\--

There aren’t as many pancakes in the stack as he usually gets, which James feels is deeply unfair. He frowns at the plate, jabbing the fork into his mouth. The pancakes taste...different than usual. Not bad, just different.

Great. Now even his taste buds are wrong.

“Everybody else needs to eat pancakes too,” he says, even though James is almost sure that won’t fix things.

\--

“Comin’ up. They take time.” Brock shuffles back to the kitchen to make a couple more plates, with just a little less enthusiasm as he had for the child. Look, he likes Winter and James enough, but Bucky’s a prick and he’s a little pissed at Steve right now.

After a few minutes, the table is lined with plates, and he brings the butter and syrup to put in the center, before he sits down himself.

\--

James keeps glaring down at his own plate. Now everybody has pancakes, but they’re still not fixed. And Winter doesn’t even have the _right_ pancakes.

“Bucky says you can’t cook,” James tells Daddy, because if he’s having a bad day, then Bucky shouldn’t be happy either.

But Daddy just laughs. “I’ve gotten better,” he protests, but he doesn’t even sound annoyed.

\--

“‘Better’ is relative when before meant a non-edible pile of shit.” Bucky says and shoves a bite of syrup-covered pancake in his mouth. “Gotta admit, Rumlow here can cook. One thing he’s good at.”

Brock rolls his eyes at that, and says, “I’ll take it.”

\--

James scowls. “Can we go see Tony after the pancakes?” Tony will want to fix this, just because he likes to solve mysteries. Tony is probably his last hope, which is scary. But it’s better than nothing.

\--

“I think we can go see Tony after a nap for you, little man.” Bucky says. “You’re gonna _crash_ soon.”

“Tony is busy.” Winter says and nods.

\--

“I will not.” James glares. He doesn’t even want the pancakes anymore. Things are so bad even pancakes won’t help.

And what’s Tony busy doing anyway? Not making James an arm, that’s for sure.

\--

“Okay. You wanna bet?” Bucky grins, ignoring the look from Brock that implies that Bucky is _crazy_ to bait a five year old child.

\--

“Bucky--” Daddy begins.

“Yeah,” James snaps. “I do.” He’s _not_ taking a nap and he’s not crashing, and Bucky’s going to be sorry that he made fun of him.

\--

“Alright then. I bet you that you’ll be fast asleep in, like, two hours. Max.” Especially if he keeps laying down on Winter’s chest.

“Why would you goad on a _kid_? Kids are more stubborn than ‘I don’t need a Parachute’ Rogers.” Brock says.

Bucky gives Steve and then James a vaguely worried look.

\--

“I _won’t_ ,” James says. “And when I _win_ , ‘cause I’m gonna win, you have to try and find a way to get us all back together, like we’re supposed to be.”

He stabs the fork into the pancakes again. James isn’t hungry still, but he needs the sugar in the syrup and the chocolate.

\--

Bucky blinks and shifts uncomfortably, shaking his head. “James… We shouldn’t try to get back together. It’s good to be apart.” It is, and he’s not gonna fuck around on a bet just to give James some impossible hope. Even if they _could_ go together, Bucky is gonna try everything within his powers not to.

\--

“You can’t take a bet back just ‘cause you’re scared you’ll lose!” 

\--

“Oh, I’m not scared I’ll lose, bug. I just don’t think going back together is a good idea, no matter what.”

\--

“I hate you!” James throws his fork at the wall and knocks his chair over in his haste to run away to the elevator. He doesn’t even know where he’s going; he just has to get _away_.

\--

“I-” Bucky says, and ignores the ‘told you so’ look that Brock throws him. Winter just glares at Bucky, before he gets up to follow the child, to try and calm him down.

\--

James slams the ‘close door’ button on the elevator so nobody else can get in. He doesn’t know where to go. Maybe he can just lock the elevator and stay here forever, but he can’t reach that button and Jarvis would just open it back up anyway.

He pounds on another of the buttons. He doesn’t even look at what floor it is. He’s crying again.

\--

Winter reaches the elevator just as it closes and starts to move. He lets out a slow breath of air, frustrated that he can’t help the child. He stares at the doors for a while before moving back to the table. “He is gone. I couldn’t get on the elevator, as well.”

\--

“Jarvis.” Steve stands up. “Which floor is he headed to?”

“Master Barnes is headed toward the basement, Captain Rogers.”

“We should go after him.” Steve glances at the others, hesitant. “Right?” Maybe they should give James some space. But Steve has no idea what’s in the basement. What if the kid hurts himself?

\--

“Jarvis? Can you make the elevator go to his floor? Keep him constrained to a safer area?” Bucky asks, because…. The basement isn’t the most ideal place, not at all. And at least he’ll have things to occupy himself with, on his floor. And a bed, provided he (hopefully) passes the fuck out.

\--

“I will do that now, Sergeant Barnes.”

“I don’t know what to do.” Steve slumps back into his chair, half carding his fingers through his hair and half tugging on it. “I don’t know how to make this okay for him.” Everything the kid’s ever known about how the world works is gone. How can they fix that?

\--

“Kid just needs to realize that whatever caused this is at least- It’s a good thing we’re all different, now.” Bucky says, and his tone leaves no room for arguments. “He just needs some time alone, maybe.”

\--

“He’s never been alone in his life, Buck. What if he tries something else?” Steve knows all the knives are locked up and Jarvis won’t let James out, should the kid decide that mortally wounding himself will fix things or that he needs to track down whoever caused this. But how can he keep from worrying? Who knows if James even has super soldier resilience anymore?

This is a mess. A huge mess.

\--

“Jarvis is with him. And he will call one of us if he needs us.” Winter says, blinking a little. He wants to run and scoop up the child, but he also sees the merits of leaving him alone. If Steve and Bucky want them all to stay separate, then the child will _need_ to learn how to be alone, without Bucky or Winter being near him at his every beck and call.

\--

“And for James, this isn’t a good thing. Not yet.” Steve feels about as ready to crash as Bucky predicted James would be, heavy all over. “I’m not saying this is bad. But he’s never been on his own before, never had just his own thoughts. Maybe we haven’t been concerned enough. He must be so scared.”

\--

“ _He’s_ the one that stormed outta here. Maybe he should have thought of that before leaving.” Brock says, shrugging and eying the elevator. “He wants to throw silverware around, might as well let him run off and brood about it.”

\--

“He’s _upset_ ,” Steve snaps. God, James just had to have a meltdown around Brock, didn’t he? Of all the people for Steve to start fucking, it had to be the one with all the compassion of a damn brick. “He’s dealing with the physical and emotional capacities of an actual little kid, and he’s never had to do that before. God forbid he panic. He can’t be an emotionless machine all the time, Brock.”

\--

“So we’re going to ignore that he threw a fit and ran to the _basement_? I can understand it, Steve, but he can’t just do that shit. Right?”

\--

“I’m not going to _punish_ him for having a tantrum on what has to be the most distressing day of his whole life.” Even when Insight had failed and Pierce died, leaving the kid all alone, he’d still been in the same body he was used to. Everything James used to have as a baseline is gone now. “I don’t care what he does to your silverware.”

\--

“Fine, fine. What do I know.” Brock shrugs and shovels another bite into his mouth. He really _doesn’t_ know, and it’s not like he can look back to his own childhood to accurately get a healthy representation on how to treat James. That would be a bit of a clusterfuck. “Have _you_ , daddy dearest, told him he’s going to stay a child? Or are you being cryptic?”

\--

“I haven’t told him that. I don’t _know_ if he will.” Much as Steve wants it, they’re still clueless as to what caused this. He can’t tell James it’s permanent when he has no clue. “I’d rather not tell him how things are going to turn out when I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

\--

“Tony pretty much said it’s stable, though, right? Like…. I don’t know what would push us back together.” Bucky says. Not that he knows or understands any of the specifics, but… He feels like his mind is closing up closer and closer to _himself_ with every passing minute, like an open wound solidifying itself. He’s _Bucky_ , and Winter is Winter and James is James. Nothing feels like it’s unraveling- Quite the opposite.

\--

“Whoever pulled you apart in the first place might.” Steve nearly puts his face right in the pancakes, he’s so tired. “I hate this. I hate not knowing.”

\--

“And James probably hates not being told what’s going on, too. Give him an answer, at least so he’ll stop awkwardly trying to mash Winter and Bucky back into him.” Brock says. He shrugs. “The best course is for you all to stay separated, so that’s what’s going to happen. So tell him.” If Steve gets himself set on a course, he’ll make sure it happens.

\--

“Right now?” The day’s been enough of an emotional upheaval for _him_ , and Steve isn’t the one who suddenly found himself split into three separate people. What if this blow on top of everything else going on pushes James into a complete breakdown? Or catatonia?

\--

“Not right _now_. When he calms down or starts talking about it all weird again. He clearly doesn’t wanna talk to anyone right now, let alone about this whole,” Brock waves a fork, “Shitfest.”

\--

“Jarvis.” Steve looks up, as if Jarvis isn’t everywhere. “What’s James doing right now?”

“Master Barnes is sitting in the closet and crying, Captain Rogers.”

Steve’s suddenly struggling not to cry himself.

\--

“Does he want anything? Anyone? One of us can…. Go up and. Y’know. Help him.” Bucky bites his lower lip, looking worried himself. Winter just looks at the ceiling and though he’s still, it’s obvious he’s upset about James.

\--

“I am not sure, Sergeant Barnes. He is not answering my questions.”

One day of having an actual child. _Less_ than one day. And he’s already managed to break him, or at the very least, sit idly by while he broke. Steve feels sick.

\--

“...Does he want Bucky Bear? Or. Like. A blanket?” Bucky pauses. “Ask him if he’ll talk to Tony.”

\--

“It could help to talk to Tony.” Maybe Tony will be able to explain to James that the situation can’t be reversed. At the very least, he wouldn’t be alone.

“He is willing to talk to sir,” Jarvis reports.

\--

“I’ll go find him, then. Impress that he’s gonna talk to James whether he wants to or not.” Bucky says, shoving one last bite of Rumlow’s pancake in his mouth before he moves to leave. “...You stay here.”

\--

Steve pushes his chair back, though. The thought of eating is suddenly turning his stomach. He needs to sit somewhere else. Maybe lie down. Or sleep and hope that things will be better when he comes to. But he can’t do that. James needs him. They all do.

\--

“Steve,” Brock says as soon as Bucky leaves, “Relax. Seriously, you worry more than a suburban mom. He’ll be _fine_. It’s not like he can get into unsupervised trouble.”

\--

“Bucky tried to cut off his own arm in his first week here. He got as far as hacking himself up with the knife.” And it’s not like Jarvis hadn’t been around at the time. When Bucky--any part of Bucky--truly wants something, there’s no stopping him.

\--

“...To be fair, he doesn’t have an arm to hack off, now.” Brock says, glancing over to Winter’s silver arm, like he’s verifying it’s still there. “And Tony ‘n Bucky will take care of it. Right now? You need to calm down.” He doesn’t say it, but he’s thinking that the one that’s _truly_ worrying is Steve. He’d never say it out loud, though.

\--

“I’m calm,” Steve says, all but flinging himself at the couch. “Don’t I look calm?”

\--

“Oh yeah, you’re the face of calm. You’d _never_ be considered high-strung. Not ever. Totally calm and level, our Captain America.” Brock rolls his eyes and gestures at Winter, who looks back blankly until Brock all but jerks a finger to the couch.

Winter still looks confused, but he slowly gets up from the table and ends up awkwardly sitting on the floor in front of Steve’s couch.

\--

“You can sit on the couch if you want,” Steve mutters. His head is pounding. This should be the best thing that’s ever happened since he got Bucky back. How can it all go wrong so fast?

\--

“You can lay down.” He doesn’t mind. Brock wants him over here, and Winter thinks it’s a good idea. He sort of lays his head on the cushion, turning to look over to Steve. “Get comfortable.”

\--

“Thank you, Winter. I’m sorry, I know today’s been bad for you too. But you keep doing whatever you can to help. It means a lot.” Steve doesn’t intend the sudden outpouring of gratitude, but he can’t stop once he starts. He flushes, staring down at the couch.

\--

Winter gives a one-shouldered shrug. “Bucky and James will both benefit from being away from me.” He believes that, one hundred percent.

\--

“Winter.” Steve’s surprised at how firm his voice sounds. “If it weren’t for you, James would have had a meltdown hours ago. You made a mistake in the car. But everything else you’ve done today has been perfect. You’re the one who held him together for so long, and that means the world to me.”

\--

“...James is important. I want- I want him to be happy. Bucky as well.” And of course, Steve, who is so close and talking to him so softly in ways that makes Winter actually _smile_ a little.

\--

“You’re important too,” Steve stresses. He knows Winter isn’t the child, but he can’t help but reach out and stroke his hair as he would for James. “You’re so important. And I want you to be happy too.”

\--

Winter leans into the touch immediately. He doesn’t often get touched, but. It feels good. He has the fleeting memories of Bucky and James to verify that soft, gentle touches make the world brighter, better. Wonderful. He smiles to Steve again, more of an impression than anything. A non-smile. “You are too nice to me.”

\--

“Good,” Steve says. “I’ll just have to keep on being too nice, then. You deserve it. All of you.”

\--

“You need nice things, too.” He can see how stressed Steve is, and he wishes he could wipe the duties and the anxiety and the worry away from his person as easy as a stroke of paint.

\--

“I have nice things.” Winter doesn’t need to worry about Steve on top of everything else. “In fact, this morning I got everything I ever wanted. And it’s all right here.”


	5. Chapter 5

James buries his face against the bottom of one of the coats hanging in the closet. It smells like Bucky. He hadn’t ever noticed that Bucky had a scent until he wasn’t part of his body anymore. It smells like _home_ , but Bucky isn’t letting James come back home ever again. He said so.

James can’t help but cry. He doesn’t want to--if Winter comes in and sees him like this, he’s going to be _so upset_ \--but he can’t make the tears stop. His breaths are all shallow and shaky, and his hand is white against the coat.

It’s not _fair_.

Tony’s supposed to be coming to see him, Jarvis said. He doesn’t really want to see Tony. Tony’s just going to tell him no like everybody else does.

\--

Tony’s being told that if he doesn’t get his perky little ass down to comfort James, then he’s going to have to face the wrath of a very upset Winter, and an equally upset Bucky. Staring at Bucky’s pale and neutral expression right now, only a foot away from his goddamn face, he’s not sure which is worse. Originally, he would have had bets that Murder Barnes was clearly the most terrifying. He’s reevaluating.

He has no idea why on earth any of the Barnes’ or Rogers thinks he can do _shit_ with their deranged and crying kid. Not that the kid is at fault here- No. This is all Tony. He’s standing in front of James’ bedroom door, trying not to just… Subtly walk the hell away and leave this to be a job for Jarvis. He’s pretty sure Jarvis could calm James down very well- After all, J is practically a nanny for him at this point.

There’s a few moments where he gets sidetracked in his thinking, his brain automatically following that line of thought and traveling into a possible body for Jarvis, something that would be clearly more at ease for a child, something that could actually physically _help_ him. His fingers _almost_ get to that itching need to think more, draw more, when he hears someone clearing their throat, and he remembers-

Right. Crying five year old, angry (slightly murdery) Barnes, and a task that he literally should not have to deal with. “He’s not my kid, you know.” He says idly, and even he can’t help but look away from Bucky’s glare. “Christ. All I meant was that he’s not gonna actually take comfort from _me_. I mean, for all he knows, I’m the weird old dude who owns the place, owns all the robots, and practically, for all intents and purposes to a five year old’s head, owns him. Am I _really_ the best person for this?”

Not to mention Tony’s own inability to understand kids, but he’s not going to bring that one up. Bucky doesn’t need to have verbal recognition that Tony’s a piece of shit. More than he already knows.

Bucky’s expression grows grimmer, more murderous if at all possible. Tony’s glad, not for the first time, that every weapon has been confiscated. He does _not_ want a knife through his eye right now, sorry. “Go. You’re the only one he wanted. And don’t say any of what you just said to him. Do you listen to yourself when you speak? Or are you literally reaching into the depths of your asshole to scoop up that much shit?”

Tony blinks at Bucky, momentarily taken aback. His mouth opens to reply to him, to start something, but he decides to actually be mature for once, and instead opens the door quickly and slides inside before he gets punched by Barnes.

He huffs when he’s inside, scanning the room and saying softly, “Uh, James? Are you here?”

\--

James can’t make himself speak. It’ll come out too loud if he does, whiny and sobbing and just the sort of thing that would make Tony decide that a real kid is too annoying and needy to stay in the tower. And he doesn’t _want_ to talk to Tony. Not if Tony’s just going to be like everybody else and tell James how much better his life is now that everything’s wrong.

He just pushes his face up tighter against Bucky’s coat and tries not to even breathe. Maybe Tony will go away. Maybe he’ll decide this is all too much to deal with and say that they have to all go back to being one person if they want to stay. Or maybe if James just waits here long enough, everything will go back to normal.

He can’t help sniffling. He hopes it’s not loud.

\--

The kid is _in_ here, but he doesn’t want to just ask Jarvis where he is. Who knows how the kid will take that. He gives a few cursory glances around the bedroom itself, then moves to look first under the bed, in some of the lower drawers of the dresser, and finally the closet.

Seeing the kid curled up next to clothes that fit him only a few hours before is an odd sight, but that’s not what Tony focuses in on. No, no it’s definitely the tears and the snot and the fact that the kid felt that he had to hide himself away in order to fully express his emotions. He blinks at James, eyes perhaps a little wider and panicked than a good adult _should_ be, and then he sits down.

He huffs as he crouches and sits across from him, trying to pull the sleeves and ends of the coats that want to brush his head away from him. “James? What’s up?”

\--

James tenses. He wants to shuffle away, but his legs are crossed and he can’t. Tony’s in front of the door anyway. Where would he go?

“Somebody did this.” His voice is all thick with tears, like he has a cold. “Somebody just decided they want to tear us up and they didn’t have to even be in the room to do it.” He wipes at his eyes, raising his head. Why shouldn’t he beg? What else is left? “You’re the smartest person ever. You have to find a way to fix it. You _have_ to, _please_.”

\--

Tony frowns at James, lifting a hand to chew on a nail. Fuck. He really doesn’t- He doesn’t know how to talk to a kid. What if he corrupts him? Fucks him up without realizing it? What if he taps into some unknown reserve of anger and _yells_ at him? He doesn’t know.

“Why do you want to be back together?” Maybe the kid just hasn’t thought about it practically yet.

\--

James wants to scream. He wants to be back together because _everything’s_ wrong, that’s why. Nothing’s the way it’s supposed to be and he’s never felt like this and he can’t remember right and it’s all so wrong that he doesn’t think there are even words for it.

But there have to be words, or Tony won’t listen. “Me and Bucky and Winter need each other because Bucky stops me from saying stupid things like earlier when I asked Daddy and the Commander to adopt me and Winter needs to be little sometimes so he can’t hurt anyone and I need to be Bucky when it’s too scary to be little and now we don’t have that and I made the Commander mad and Winter made Daddy and Bucky mad and I’ve never ever been alone in my whole life and now I’m alone all the time and I’m supposed to be five my last daddy made me to be five and always five but now I’m going to get older and I don’t want to get older and Daddy and Bucky and Winter are so much older and they’re going to _die_ way before I do everyone here will and Bucky Bear can’t talk to me anymore and I’ll be all alone!”

\--

Tony has to stop himself from jerking back after the vitriol of five year old babble hits him. That’s… A lot. And he gets, it, he does. It almost makes sense to the point that it’s hard to rebuttal.

“You want to be together because you’ve always been together. Right?” He waits a moment for James’ tearful and numb nod. “I get that. You’ve always had them. But you’ve never been able to _talk_ to them, right? Bucky and Winter? So that’s new. That’s good, right? You get to, uh, touch them and talk to them. It’s not all bad. Your head is yours, but you’re not _really_ alone. Right?”

\--

James shakes his head. No. _Not_ right. “I will be! I have to sleep more and they’ll want to do things without me and they’ll get old and die and so will you and Tasha and _everybody_! I’m not supposed to be alone _ever_! And now I am and no one even asked if I wanted it and no one cares that I want to fix it now! It’s not fair!”

\--

“You’re right. You shoulda been asked. I’ll be honest- It’s fucked up that you weren’t asked.” He blinks and cringes a little as he realizes he probably shouldn’t be _that_ linguistically honest with the five year old. Oh well. He’s probably heard worse. “No one’s dying anytime soon, James. We all have very _very_ long lives ahead of us.” Hopefully. He’s not going to go into the fact that none of the Avengers actually plan on having long-term lives in comparison to normal people. That’s not the kind of conversation to have.

“You’re a real person now, kiddo. You have your own thoughts. And you weren’t asked, but is it- Is it _really_ fair to ask Winter and Bucky to have to share thoughts again?”

\--

It’s just as fair as Bucky telling him that they have to stay apart without even asking what James wants. James wants to scream again. He wants to kick Tony and break things and just tear everything apart until he gets his way. But he can’t. He’s too small.

He doesn’t want Bucky or Winter to be sad. He _doesn’t_. But this is wrong. They were never meant to be this way and today’s been _awful_ and it’s all because they’re not together anymore. They can’t live like this. They don’t know how.

James bites his lip. He tastes blood, but he can’t stop it. He can’t even think, his head full of static and fear.

Then one bright, perfect thought sparks in his head and he blurts it out immediately. “We can stay apart if you find a way to keep us from ever getting older and Daddy too so we can always be like we’re supposed to be and I won’t be alone.”

\--

“James, that’s-” Tony shakes his head immediately. He can see how excited the poor kid got, but that’s not something he’s going to even pretend to humor. “That’s not how people _work_. Look. You’re five. Steve, Bucky and Winter? They’re like. Thirty. You’re all _young_. None of you need to worry about _death_. That’s a little existential for your age. You should be worrying about- Like. Playing with your bears and learning how to spell. Seriously.”

He pauses for a moment, trying to decide how to work everything. He knows that everything has happened way too quick for this kid, that he’s probably overwhelmed, overtired, and emotional. No one’s had the _time_ to be frank with him. “You’ve gotten a chance to be a real kid. None of the- The messed up stuff that was going on with your, uh, other daddy. You don’t like that? Honestly, I just wanna know, so I can help. I want you to be a happy kid, James.”

\--

“I won’t be happy if I have to be a real kid!” James had stopped crying for a second, but now the tears are spilling down his face again. He’s trying to be good and make everyone happy, but no matter what he comes up with, all they say is no. “I’m as old as Bucky and Winter and I’m old enough to know what I want and I know that being five and having people take care of me and keep me safe makes me happy! I don’t have to worry about stuff and I have bears and Daddy and my friends and everything I want! If I get older, no one’s going to want to play with me anymore! They’re going to want me to grow up and that’s not what I’m for and I don’t want it!”

\--

“That’s not what you’re _for_? James, be honest. Are you saying things that your old daddy would want you to say?” He feels ill talking to a five year old like he should know these answers. The second they calm the fuck down and reach an agreement, he’s going to scoop the kid up in his arms. He’s freaked at the prospect of messing this kid up, of irreversibly screwing with him, but he-

He really likes the kid. Being able to interact with him fills him with… Something. He felt it a little even when it was just Bucky, having the headspace of a child. But he couldn’t fully be on board with it then, the reminder of _how_ it happened still too uncomfortable for him to want to hold Bucky and talk him through his shit.

Now it’s different. And it crushes him to hear the kid talk about all of this as though it’s wrong and horrible for him to be a person.

\--

“No!” James shouts. He flinches as soon as he does, scrambling back until his shoulders hit against the wall. He steps on his hand when he moves and he winces, crying even more, doubled over on himself because Tony decides whether or not he stays and he just _yelled_ at Tony.

“My last daddy pretended to be nice when I was little and sometimes it made me feel safe but that’s just ‘cause I didn’t have anything else and really he was doing it to make me helpless. But now everybody’s nice to me and takes care of me and it’s not anything people use to hurt me anymore. It’s mine now. It’s for me to be safe and taken care of and not have to worry about anything. And I want that.”

He wipes his face on a pair of pants beside him. “You said it was wrong that nobody asked what I wanted. You said it was fucked. This is what I want. I don’t want to grow up.”

\--

“You don’t need to worry about growing up, James. It’s- Look, no one wants to grow up. But it happens. And now you get to… To _learn_. Don’t you wanna learn? Progress? I know it’s a lot. It’s too much. I shouldn’t even ask you this shit. It’s been a long day and everyone’s tired- You especially.” He huffs and runs a hand down his face, before he moves across the closet so he can sit up against the wall with James, pulling the kid against his side.

“It’s not that no one wants to deny you the act of staying like this forever. I would _love_ to make us all immortal beings. But that’s just not possible, or fair. Why should _we_ get to live forever and not everyone else? It’s not how the world works. I’ll give you anything that’s in my power to grant.” He raises a hand and purses his lips. “I’ll admit it. I’ll spoil you rotten, kiddo. But there’s some stuff I can’t do. And you being a person? Who gets to grow and have your own life? I would wanna die if I had to get rid of that.”

\--

For a second it feels good to have Tony holding him. He’s so upset and tired and scared, and all he wants to do is cuddle up next to him and sleep. But then Tony just keeps _talking_ and James is moving like an eel, thrashing to try and get away.

“I don’t want to learn I don’t want to be like other people I just want what I had back! And if somebody did this then you’re smart enough to fix it and that’s in your power and that’s what I want!”

\--

“I can’t give it to you, James. Even if I could figure it out, putting you all together? Yeah, it’s what you want, but remember? It’s fucked up to do things without asking. Winter and Bucky don’t want this. They- Being apart is good. I know you can’t see it, and I wish I could make things better, _now_ , but I can’t.” He didn’t even realize he’s started moving his fingers in small bouts of counting, some internal tick whenever he’s not sure not _sure_ and thinking isn’t even helping.

He sighs again, trying not to feel wounded that James practically fucking ran from him. “If it’s selfish to keep you here, as a person, then call me selfish, ‘cause I can’t do anything else.”

\--

“You don’t really want to help.” He’s still crying, his tears itchy and suddenly so hot on his face. James has never had a fever. He can’t get fevers. But that’s what it feels like, and it’s burning him up. “Nobody really wants to help me. All you want is to make me do things the way you’re used to them working and make me think that they’re better. But they’re not for me. Bucky’s been a person without anybody else. And Winter was too, because Bucky was asleep when they made him. But I’ve never been alone and I’ve never had to change and that’s _right_ for me. Why do you get to say it’s wrong just because it’s not how you do things? It’s _my_ way and yours isn’t any better!”

\--

“Never changing isn’t good for anyone, James. If I never changed? I’d still be making weapons of mass destruction that kill people on a daily basis. That’s an extreme fucking example. But change is good. You’ve never been a person? No. That’s why we’re all here. To help you learn. You’re not going to do anything alone. No way. We’d never expect that. We’re here to help you, ‘cause we _do_ know how to do this. If you don’t learn, you can’t be _better_.” He’s trying not to get upset, but it’s hard in the face of a five year old having an _existential crisis_ in a closet.

\--

“I don’t _need_ to be better!” James shouts. “I wasn’t making bombs and hurting people! And good people don’t need to change!”

\--

Tony’s about to say something, but at his shout, his mouth freezes up a little. It’s one thing to know he’s a horrible person. It’s another to have a child tell him what he knows. He gives a mild shrug, saying “Maybe. But no one’s perfect. People can- People can always have something to, uh, improve on.” He’s trying not to sound shaken up. He’s not sure if he’s succeeding. He pulls his legs up to his chest, in part to get comfortable and also because it’s- Well. Kid knows how to throw his punches.

“Steve’s a good person. Right? You don’t think he’s ever changed? Doesn’t need to change? He used to be ninety pounds. Things change, James. We can only hope they change for the better.”

\--

“Daddy’s _perfect_!” he yells. His head hurts. It hurts really bad. Daddy wants them all to stay apart and when he first realized Bucky was five he went away for a long time and Bucky missed him and those things weren’t perfect, but Daddy’s perfect and he _has_ to be perfect because he makes James feel safe and James doesn’t want him to leave or do anything different. He has to be.

James is crying again. He doesn’t want to talk anymore. He’s crying so loud and it makes his head hurt even worse, but he can’t stop. Everything’s terrible and he just needs to _scream_.

\--

“No one’s perfect. We can _try_ , and sure, Steve is better at trying than most. But… No. We just change, and hope that we can be better.” Tony huffs out a breath and slowly tries to move back over to where James is. “I wasn’t trying to- I’m upsetting you. I didn’t mean to.” He knew he would. He tried to tell them he would just hurt the kid. He shouldn’t even be allowed around him. Fuck. “I just- Wanted you to understand. And I’m still not sure you do, but I think we should talk about it later. Okay?”

\--

“It’s _stupid_! It’s not going to be any less stupid if we talk about it later! I don’t want to talk I want it to go away!”

James is lying down now, curled in on himself. The one hand he still has is covering his face, and he’s crying so hard he’s howling.

\--

“Nah, sometimes talking later gives us time to think and calm down. C’mon. Let’s get out of the closet. I don’t- How can I help you? In a way that doesn’t involve me violating what I’ve already said I wouldn’t do?”

\--

James can’t answer right away. He can’t make himself stop crying; the noises just keep coming out, like a sink that’s clogged and overflowing. And it gets louder and louder until it feels like he’s getting stabbed in the ears every time he cries.

It doesn’t stop until he starts hiccuping. It’s like his body gave up and _forced_ him to quit. And the hiccups hurt too, and then he’s just lying there, hurting and gasping for air.

“I don’t want to be like this.” His voice is hoarse. “If I have to be like this, I don’t want to be alive.”

\--

Tony knows it’s just melodramatic babble, but he can’t help the sharp intake of breath. His initial reaction is to reach forward and pull the kid to his chest, regardless of any protest, holding him close and shaking his head. “Fuck, James. Don’t say that. You don’t mean those things. C’mon.”

\--

“I do so.” There aren’t any more tears coming out. There’s nothing left. “Everyone keeps telling me how I’m supposed to feel, or how things are better. But I don’t want them, and I’d rather not even _be_ here anymore if this is how it has to be.”

\--

“...I’m sorry for telling you how you should feel. But don’t say that kind of stuff. It’s _terrifying_.” He huffs and stands slowly, groaning at the ways his joints protest from the uncomfortable position for so long. “Things will _get_ better. I promise. I know you probably don’t care too much what I think, or what I promise-” Why should he? He already said Tony’s not a good man- “But. I don’t know. Things will be better.”

\--

James shakes his head. They won’t. And he doesn’t care if the stuff he says is scary, because _everything_ is. Tony was the last person who could help him, and now he doesn’t have anything except his bears.

And they don’t even talk anymore.

\--

“What- What are you afraid of James? Why don’t you want to learn to be a person?” The question kind of blurts out of his mouth as he pulls him and James out of the closet, taking a deep breath to get something a little more fresh than the stuffy air of the enclosed space.

\--

“I’m not supposed to be.” He’s said that over and over. Why won’t anyone listen? “I’m not supposed to be separate and I don’t _want_ to be. If you woke up tomorrow and you were part of somebody else, would you like it? Would you just say okay because it’s not fair to abandon that person? I don’t _want_ it.”

He turns his head to stare at Tony. “Why didn’t you like me how I was before? Why do you want me to be different?”

\--

“Why- James.” Tony is trying to filter his looks and responses, but the kid’s brain moves so fast onto the next topic that he doesn’t have time to recover. He wonders if that’s how people feel when they’re around him. ADD into overdrive, please. “I liked you plenty. Now I can like you even more, because you’re always going to be around. And Winter, too. Don’t you think Winter should have a chance to walk around and do his… Weird murder thing? He hasn’t had that chance until now. _You_ haven’t had that chance. Now you’re the right size, you’re always around, and- Yeah.” _And you’re not some fucked up adult pretending for the sake of programming_ is absolutely left unsaid. He hopes the kid doesn’t pick up on that.

\--

“I won’t be the right size for long,” James insists. It’s not that he doesn’t want Winter and Bucky to be able to do the things they like without people thinking they’re weird or crazy or everything else people thought he was after the trial. And if he could just stay the way he is now, everything would be okay, probably. But he _can’t_. Now he can’t always be little and he doesn’t _want_ to get bigger.

\--

“Well. No, I guess not. But do you even know how long a year is? You’ll be so small for so long, and when you do start growing? You’ll want to. It’s not like- like today. You aren’t just going to wake up a different size. It’s slow, and you get used to it and are happy. Hell, I wish _I_ could grow some more. I’m short.” Tony is trying to lighten the mood the best way he can- He’s really not sure if he’s succeeding, but at least James isn’t shouting and screaming and him and reminding him what a shitty excuse for a person he is anymore.

\--

“I won’t want to.” James is pouting and whining and doing all kinds of bad things, but he doesn’t care anymore. He’s sick of everybody telling him how this is better, and how much he’ll like it. He _won’t._

Then James tenses up, grabbing onto Tony’s sleeve. “If somebody made an invention that changed us up and gave us new bodies and made them different, then you can invent something that’ll make my body little again if it tries to get big!”

\--

“ _James_. We grow up for a reason. I want to help you, but trust me. Making you small forever is never going to help you. It’ll _hurt_ you.”

\--

“But that’s what I want!” James can hear his voice get loud again. “And you said you’d do what I wanted!” He’s trying to compromise. He’s really, really trying, and no one is being fair. “ _Please_. If I don’t like it and if I wanna get older like everybody thinks I’m supposed to want, we can just not do it anymore.”

\--

“How about we try this down the road. Okay? If, in a year, you really _really_ wanna stay little, then we’ll find a solution. But you don’t know until you try, okay?” He huffs, knowing that really all he’s doing is prolonging a conversation. But not really, since he’s going to have a long talk to Rogers about this. Fuck.

\--

“I’ll still really want it.” He’s supposed to be five, not six. But at least Tony’s saying yes now, even if he’s saying yes for a whole year away. And a year from now, Tony can make him five again instead of six. That’s okay.

\--

“Yeah? Well, at least then you’ll _really_ know, right? It’s good to know for sure you want something before you do it. Otherwise, you’re what’s called ‘impulsive’, and then you get Pepper yelling at you for hours and hours. Trust me. No fun. Now we’ll know.” Tony grins and bounces James on his hip.

\--

James doesn’t say anything. He wipes at his nose and face instead. He’s not crying anymore, but they’re still all wet. He holds in a yawn. “I want my new arm to look like Winter’s,” he says.

\--

“No skin, tiger? Just metal like his? That’s a daring look. We could make it red, just like my armor. Conspicuous, right? That’d be fun.”

\--

James shrugs. “I just want my arm back.” He doesn’t think it’s really daring or weird or any of the other things people seem to think of it. It’s always just been his arm. And he misses it.

\--

“We’ll get you your arm. It’ll be even better. But you can make changes to it, too. Once I get the design down, I could make it look like anything.”

\--

Another shrug. Now that he’s not crying so much, his head seems to hurt even more and he feels all limp. “I dunno.” He wants his old arm back, wants his old _body_ back, but people just get annoyed when he says that. And now he doesn’t have to grow up, so he doesn’t want to argue anymore.

\--

“Alright. We’ll figure it out. You hungry? Do you wanna come down to the lab with me and nap? The ‘bots’ll probably be happy to see you so little. You know how much they like you.” Now that the Crisis has been averted, Tony is feeling the same exhaustion as James, in all honesty. Doesn’t mean he’ll actually sleep, but he would love to put the kid down and get back to something… Not so emotional.

\--

“I can’t sleep right now!” He _won’t_. Even though Bucky backed out of their bet like a jerk, he’s still not going to let him win. And James doesn’t think it’s been two hours yet, even if it feels like he was crying for forever.

“I can see the robots,” he adds. He likes the robots.

\--

“Alright. Awesome. Uh, J? Tell the others I’m taking James with me. He’s fine.” He turns back to the kid, smiling. “Do you want Bucky to come with? I’m pretty sure he’s outside the door. Up to you.”

\--

“ _No,_ ” James says immediately. He doesn’t want Bucky. He’d be fine if he never, ever saw him again. And anyway, if Bucky came to the lab, then he’d probably get out blankets or something and try to cheat.

\--

“Okay, okay. I’ll make him leave. No problem. Just me, you, and the ‘bots.” He steps out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. As expected, Bucky is _still_ out there, looking like absolute shit. He wonders how much he was able to hear, if any at all. He looks tired and haggard and so, so, unsure.

“Go back to Steve. James is going downstairs with me.” Tony says immediately, and Bucky opens his mouth to argue, but Tony grimaces, pointing slyly to the kid. He doesn’t want Bucky, and Bucky had _better_ respect that. “I’ll bring him back when he’s ready.”

“...Fine. James, you’re okay?” Bucky asks, worrying his bottom lip.

\--

James doesn’t answer. He turns away, keeping his mouth shut. Bucky doesn’t care if he’s okay. Bucky just doesn’t want him crying all over everything. Tony’s the one who’s going to fix things for James. James was _part_ of Bucky until this morning and Bucky didn’t even _try_ to fix this.

James is never speaking to Bucky again.

\--

Bucky looks even more worried when he doesn’t get a response, but Tony waves him off, giving a small grimace and a one-shouldered shrug. “He’ll be fine. Go back to Steve.”

It looks like Bucky isn’t going to, but after a moment, he gives a stiff nod and starts walking back in the direction of Rumlow’s floor. His shoulders are stiff, and Tony feels like fucking _shit_ , but the kid’s emotional well-being is a little more important at the moment.

“...Alright, tiger. Let’s go. Are you hungry? I can totally get Dum-E to make us smoothies, if you want.”

\--

James nods. He is hungry. He hardly ate any of his pancakes before everything turned awful.

Part of him is worried that the robots might grab onto him like they usually do, and accidentally crush him now that he’s so much littler, but that’s stupid. Tony wouldn’t keep them in his lab if they broke stuff all the time. And definitely not if they broke people.

\--

“Awesome. Dum-E will make you an awesome smoothie. I promise. He’s excited to make food for people.” Now that the crying is gone, it’s a lot easier to talk to James, to treat him like he normally does. And it’s honestly easier to treat him like a _child_ , now that his physical shape reflects that.

\--

James rubs at his eyes again. “I’m sorry I yelled,” he whispers. He didn’t mean to, and he never, ever used to yell like that. His feelings are all messed up now too. But if he says that, Tony will probably just tell him that’s normal and he’ll get used to it.

He doesn’t want to get used to it. He doesn’t like making people sad.

\--

“It’s okay. You were, uh, emotional. Sometimes it’s good to yell. When it’s appropriate, I guess.” He gives another one-shouldered shrug. “Just so long as we talked about it, I guess. You know?”

\--

It’s not ever okay to yell, but James doesn’t want to argue. He just nods and lets his head rest against Tony’s shoulder. He hopes that there’s sugar in his smoothie. A lot of it. He’s really tired.

\----

The ‘bots are extremely curious by the lack of a tall and very adult Bucky Barnes. Dum-E keeps making sad little noises and grasping his claw-hand in the area where James’ metal arm _should_ be. Tony keeps having to yell at the idiotic robot, reminding him to go make fucking _food_ , hello, he made you for a reason and it’s not to ogle at fucking children!

He keeps his normal near-violent babble to a minimum for James’ benefit.

“Let me know if they get too rough with you, James. They’re all curious about you, so sometimes they forget the rules.”

\--

“It’s okay,” James says, half to Tony and half to the robots. “Tony’s making me another arm,” he adds to Dum-E. “One that fits me now. Winter still has the other one.” Then he remembers that Dum-E hasn’t seen Winter and probably thinks that James is the only Bucky. And he just shrank somehow.

It’s a little scary to have the robots loom over him now, but it’s interesting too. Maybe they can pick him up now, or he can climb onto Dum-E and ride around. He couldn’t do any of those things when he was bigger because he was too heavy.

 _This is a good size_ , James decides. Now he can fit on people’s laps and everybody, not just Daddy and Thor, can pick him up. And he doesn’t have to eat as much when he’s smaller. He can just stay this way forever and never be too big again. It’s nice.

\--

The robot gives a soft whir of an unidentified emotion, and then Tony is coming closer to the both of them, shooing the robot away. “Go make smoothies. What do I have you around for? Go, go, _go_.” He’s being _nicer_ , but he’s not going to be an angel to his stupid ‘bot.

Besides. He’s pretty sure James needs to eat. And take a nap, but he’s not gonna push that one yet. He tries to hide a yawn himself, hand covering his mouth.

\--

James gives a little wave when Dum-E rolls off over to the sink. He wants to sit down, but Tony isn’t sitting and the robots don’t really have laps for him to climb on.

He looks around the lab instead. “What are you working on?”

\--

Tony shrugs. “I might start drafting up some prints for your arm. That’s gonna take a while to design. Plus, then you can help.” He moves to go sit down at one of the desks, this one covered in papers and big blueprints with various ideas scrawled across them.

\--

James follows after him, pulling himself into Tony’s lap when he sits down. It’s hard until Tony reaches down to help him up. The arm that he still has isn’t as strong as it used to be. Maybe he’s not a super soldier anymore, and whatever split them up gave all that stuff to Winter.

“How long’s a while?” James asks. He’s really trying to be patient, but he needs an arm.

\--

“No idea. A month? It takes a while. Depends on how willing Winter is to let me take a look at his hardware. This is something… A little complicated. Gotta be patient, kid.” He smiles at him and hands James a pencil and a piece of graph paper. “You can draw, if you want.”

\--

James tries to draw an arm, but it’s really hard to draw the hand and fingers. It’s kind of hard to draw at all; the pencil’s bigger in his hand now, and he’s not used to trying to make pictures with this body. He turns the paper over and starts drawing a Bucky Bear. Bucky Bear’s shape isn’t so complicated. He can hear Dum-E clicking over by the blender.

\--

This is so much easier. A quiet kid, drawing on his lap. He could get used to this. So much better than the emotional mess he was forced to walk in on a while ago. Tony huffs as he starts sketching and designing ideas, shifting to make things more comfortable for both James and his lap.

\--

“I think Bucky wants a boring arm,” James announces. Bucky’s boring all over, that’s what he is. James is really happy he’s not part of him anymore, now that he thinks about it. “With skin and stuff. His arm probably won’t be hard.” Because it’s boring and stupid.

\--

“Well, the skin and ‘stuff’ is actually harder than just metal. His will take longer than yours.” Tony says, smiling over at the kid. “It’s not _boring_. It’s awesome. It’s a _challenge_.”

\--

“It _sounds_ boring. Hydra tried to make my arm look normal sometimes, for undercover stuff. But the skin kept tearing or wearing through when I used it, and they decided it was too much work.” James is almost surprised that he still remembers that. He wonders if he’ll forget it the longer they stay apart.

\--

“Kid, I’m way better than Hydra. No tearing or wearing through for Bucky’s arm. It’ll be so advanced, it won’t even _look_ like a robot arm.” Tony grins over at the kid, eyeing his drawing of Bucky Bear for a moment.

\--

James just shrugs. He doesn’t know why anybody would want a human arm when they could have a cool, shiny robot arm. If Bucky Bear didn’t need to be soft, he’d probably want robot paws. With claws.

James erases Bucky Bear’s feet and gets starting drawing in the robot replacements.

\--

“I’m gonna make your arm so that you can change it when you want. ‘Cause there’ll be times when you want something different than the death metal arm that Winter’s got.” He smiles as the kid starts to change his drawing, rolling his eyes a little.

\--

“Like when?” James can’t imagine ever wanting a different arm. Unless it could be like a Swiss army knife and turn into different things. It’d be cool if one of his fingers could turn into a bubble wand or something. But that also sounds messy. And where would he keep the bubble solution?

\--

“Well, like. I could easily change it for you, I mean. Say you want a person arm. Boom. I can do that. And then I can put it back to the robot arm. That’d be cool, right? I’m pretty sure it’s cool. Super awesome. One of the arms will have to look like the Iron Man Suit.”

\--

“Will it have a repulsor?” He still doesn’t see why they have to make him a whole new arm when he could just put a glove and a sleeve over the normal one. But that’d be annoying when it’s hot outside, James supposes. Plus, when it’s sunny, the sun shines off the metal and hurts his eyes sometimes. So maybe a less shiny arm could work sometimes.

\--

“...No. I’m not _that_ irresponsible.” He snorts. “You don’t need any weapons on your arm, kiddo.”

\--

“But Iron Bear has an arc reactor.” It doesn’t _work_ like the ones in Tony’s suits, but it’s still there. Iron Man’s hand would look weird without the repulsor on the palm. James can’t even really picture it. “It could at least have a light,” he says. That would be useful. He’d never need a flashlight or anything if he had that arm.

\--

“... I could do a light. But you’re not Iron Bear. No arc reactors and no repulsors. You don’t want the first one, and you don’t need the latter.”

\--

Tony sort of looks like he expects James to argue, but James just nods. He didn’t want to shoot a repulsor at anybody anyway. He doesn’t like weapons and he’s kind of relieved now that he’s too little to hold things like knives even if he wanted to. It makes him feel safer. He can’t hurt anybody by accident when he’s this small.

Maybe he could have a see-through arm too, so he could watch all the little parts working to make it move. That would be cool. He should make a list of all the different arms he wants.

\----

Dum-E, as it is, makes decent enough smoothies. Tony tells James in a very serious voice that he has to thank the ‘bot, even if there’s still nasty chunks of fruit in the cup, because otherwise Dum-E will pout all day long and be even _more_ useless than usual.

Tony sips his own smoothie slowly, leaning back in his chair with the kid on his lap. He’d realized when Dum-E had handed him one of the cups that he hadn’t really eaten much that day. Combined with his daily intake of coffee, that wasn’t the best thing in the world.

“You staying with me all night? Or d’ya wanna go back to your Daddy at some point? I know he’s, uh, a little worried. You don’t _have_ to go back to him, but. He probably wants to know what’s going on.” He says slowly, voice muffled just a little by the straw in his mouth.

\--

James rubs at his eyes. He’s been doing that a lot when he isn’t holding onto his smoothie cup. He can’t help it. At first it made him feel a little more awake, but now it’s not helping and it’s hard to keep his head up.

“How long have we been here?” he asks, and he has to close his mouth tight at the end of the question to keep from yawning. He misses Daddy and Winter, but he can’t go anywhere until he’s sure that it’s been two hours. He’s still mad at Bucky for saying he couldn’t stay up that long. And for a lot of things.

\--

“Uh, in the lab? Like. An hour and a half. Does that matter?”

\--

“How long were we talking in my room?” It matters a _lot_ , but he’s not sure Tony will understand.

\--

“A half hour? I don’t know. What’s up, James?” He’s leaning back to really _look_ at him, cause this seems like something important. What is he missing?

\--

“Then I wanna go see Daddy and Winter,” he says, and he lets himself yawn. It’s okay to yawn now. As long as he manages to stay awake until Daddy and Winter see him. And Bucky, who’s probably with them. It’s too bad he’s not talking to Bucky ever, because James wants to laugh at him.

Oh well. He can just pretend one of the bears is Bucky later, and laugh in his face then.

\--

“...Okay, then. You’re awesome at avoiding my questions, you know that? I can almost appreciate it, if you weren’t _five_.” He huffs out a breath and slowly stands up, carrying James in his arms. He hopes the kid doesn’t expect him to hold his smoothie for him, ‘cause that’s not happening. He tells Jarvis to alert the others that they’re on their way back to ‘The Bastard’s’ floor, then sets his way to the elevator.

\--

“I had to stay awake for two hours,” James says. “Because Bucky’s a jerk and said I couldn’t. He didn’t want me to see you.” Probably because he was worried Tony could fix things. But Tony has fixed things and he even did it in a way that lets James stay away from Bucky. So ha ha.

\--

“Two whole hours, huh? Well, you look like you’re about to pass out in my arms. We’ll have to hurry to Bucky to shove it in his face that you’re _awesome_.” Tony grins at him and pushes the button to Brock’s floor after a little straining to get a finger free from both the child and the smoothie.

\--

James smiles. “Thanks,” he says. He yawns again. It doesn’t matter since the elevator moves so fast. He’s just finished yawning when the doors open.

\--

Tony doesn’t bother with such nice social conventions as _knocking_ or _letting his presence be known_ , he just walks into the suite and immediately sets the kid down on Rumlow’s couch, then sits himself down right next to him. He’s clearly way more comfortable with the kid, now, daring so much as to sit _next_ to him, and not look like a mess of nervous jitters.

“Me and the kid are champions, because we stayed awake for two _entire_ hours.” He announces to the room at large, and gives a giant smirk to Bucky when he sees the man rolling his eyes like crazy.

\--

James nods. He flops over on the couch, his head brushing against Tony’s leg.

“James.” Daddy sounds worried. “Are you okay?”

“Uh-huh.” He lets his eyes slide shut. Or really, they shut on their own. He wanted to fall asleep on Winter, but he’s so tired he can’t make himself ask.

\--

“Clearly,” Tony says, “Two hours was just about his limit. I’m surprised he’s lasted this long, in all honesty.”

\--

“He wouldn’t have if Bucky hadn’t told him he couldn’t,” Steve says. Brock was right about goading him. All it did was strengthen his resolve, and if there’s one thing kids excel at, it’s resolving themselves toward the most inconsequential achievements.

“How’s he doing?” James didn’t look like he’d been crying recently when Tony carried him in, but that could just mean that he was too exhausted for tears.

\--

“He drank a smoothie, drew Bucky Bear with some sick metal arms, and we started thinking about what his arm is gonna look like.” He glances down at the kid, verifying that he’s out like a light. “We had a screaming match for about thirty minutes, too.”

\--

“Christ.” Tony must have told him that they couldn’t go back together. Of course James would have lost it. The poor kid’s entire world fell apart today. Not to mention that he’s in a five year old’s body, full of emotions he never learned to control. That stage of development was already done for him when Pierce ordered Winter to be a child. Now he’s running on nothing but whatever memories from the other two he retains.

“I’m sorry.” Steve can’t imagine what that was like for Tony, thrust into the middle of an emotional maelstrom, dealing with identity issues he’s not even a part of. “Did he just scream himself out of it? How did you get him to calm down?”

\--

“In a year, I’m going to make a machine that keeps him a five year old forever.” Tony shrugs, like that’s no big deal whatsoever. “I told him he might change his mind, but fine. That’s… Basically the gist of it. I think we tired each other out.”

\--

“ _Tony_.” Steve can’t even form words beyond that. He told the kid that he never had to grow up? Was he just hoping to avoid an argument and expecting someone else to deal with the inevitable fallout?

\--

“I’m not going to actually _do_ it! He’s been actually five for a day! He’s going to realize that getting older is cool. It’s fine.”

\--

Fine? _Fine_? There’s nothing fine about this. Steve doesn’t think there’s a word in any language that can accurately convey how far from fine this is. “What if he doesn’t? We don’t know how deep Pierce’s programming is going to run, even in an actual child’s body. What happens if he comes to you in a year and says he still wants to stay the same?”

\--

“Then… I tell him the truth? Steve, you don’t get to criticize my calming down skills, considering you weren’t even there to help.” He rolls his eyes and downs the rest of his smoothie cup, setting it down on the table next to the couch.

\--

“I’m not trying to criticize you!” He’s also trying not to shout in frustration, especially considering James’s sleeping form on the couch right there, but it’s getting harder and harder. “Look, there was no good way to calm him down. I get that. But now the only thing that’s keeping him going is a lie. What happens when he finds out? And what if that makes him think we’re no better than Pierce?”

\--

“The hell? Then we explain it to him. He was overstimulated from today. He’ll calm down about that shit soon enough. It doesn’t make us _Pierce_. We’re not _that_ evil. Christ, Steve.” He shakes his head.

\--

“I _know_ we’re not, Tony. But he’s five. His current grasp of nuance is probably that lying’s evil, no matter what.”

Steve buries his face in his hands. He almost wishes none of this ever happened, despite it being what he’s wanted for so long. He can’t stand seeing James hurt like this. Just imagining how the kid is going to feel when he finds out the truth makes Steve flinch.

\--

“He’s _five_. His attention span is bound to be crap. I mean, I know most kids had a better attention span than me, but I couldn’t remember my day to day shit. He’ll forget about it eventually. His arm is the most important thing, right now, anyways!”

\--

Yeah, a regular kid would probably forget. A regular kid would spend a year being too small to reach the cabinets or to ride a roller coaster and lamenting that they’ll _never_ grow up, it takes so long.

But James has never been a regular child. Pierce certainly didn’t let him think about growing up. Even away from Pierce’s abuse, surrounded by the Avengers, he hadn’t wanted to stop being little. Why would he? He had all the comfort he could ever want. And what if giving him a child’s body doesn’t change his mind? How horrifying must it be to have a brain conditioned to believe it _has_ to be five years old in a body that’s slowly moving farther and farther away from that?

“I just don’t want to hurt him,” Steve mutters. Some crazed part of his mind that he can’t even voice out loud thinks it might be better if Tony just keeps his insane promise.

\--

“Yeah. No one does.” Tony huffs and then gives Steve a _look_ , his eyes sharply tracking the exhaustion and anxiety etched into every one of the Captain’s features. He clucks his tongue, shifting his gaze over to Winter. “You bored? ‘Cause Steve needs your help. Your Mission, if you choose to accept it… Is to go make sure Rogers showers and goes the _fuck_ to bed while me and Bucky take care of his kid. Got it?”

Winter blinks at the sudden task, glancing between Tony and Steve, not quite sure if he should listen to the former or latter.

\--

“I need to sleep,” Steve admits. He can’t imagine how badly Winter is feeling. Winter’s barely spoken in the past two hours, still but clearly overcome with worry for James. He always used to protect James, to calm him, and then this fiasco of a day happened. If caring for Steve will give Winter any form of solace, then sure. He’ll let Winter hover over him.

“Don’t wake James up,” he adds to Tony. “He’s really mad at Bucky right now. And if he sees the two of you working together, he might just think you’re out to double-cross him.”

\--

“Aye-aye, Captain. Go get a solid eight hours. And maybe a good meal to feed that ungodly metabolism of yours.” He gives a mock salute and watches as Winter gets up off the couch to follow behind Steve, the worry and uncertainty falling away his presence to give way to a quiet confidence. All he needed was a task. Tony tries not to think about the fact that Winter probably thinks it’s a _mission_ , truly and surely.

Just so long as Steve sleeps, and everyone wakes up a little less strained, he’s happy.


	6. Chapter 6

The alarm Tony set up in Steve’s room doesn’t make a sound. It’s light-based, slowly growing brighter and brighter like a sunrise. It’s nice to wake up without the jolt of a blaring alarm. Steve would never admit it out loud, but he’d never adjusted to his alarm in all the time he spend in his own apartment in DC. The shrill bursts of noise reminded him of the Valkyrie scraping against the ice as it sank deeper into the ocean, flooding with freezing water.

It’s stupid. The alarm wasn’t anything like that awful sound of ice gouging against steel.

But that’s still what he thought of, every morning.

It’s different now. It’s pleasant, waking up to the light. It’s natural, like he’s been in a field with the Commandos and now he can stretch out his limbs, basking in the sun. He doesn’t have to jump up and slap out his hand to shut off the alarm. He can just drift into consciousness.

He’s drifting now, vaguely aware that there had been a huge weight and now it’s lifted. He was worried, and now the stress is gone. Bucky...something was wrong with Bucky, but it was a dream. The worry’s over. It’s a new dawn and everything will be okay.

That’s when Steve opens his eyes.

And finds Winter sitting at a chair beside the bed, his eyes locked onto Steve. He’s wearing the gray sweater that he bought the day before.

It’s not a dream.

\--

Winter had slept huddled up in the chair for a few hours, unsure if it was appropriate to sleep beside Steve. He’s done it before, when he was connected to the others, when he still had a passing resemblance to Bucky Barnes, but now? Now he’s nothing but the weapon.

He feels grimy and gross in ways he’s not used to even thinking about. Usually, Bucky would be around to take care of these things. But it’s just him, and it’s a shock to realize that he himself doesn’t like the feeling of fuzzy teeth or greasy hair.

Shifting, he notices that Steve is awake. He’d looked away for two seconds and now Steve is awake, his expression shuttering down before Winter’s eyes. He frowns slowly, murmuring, “Good morning, Steve.” His voice is rough and scratchy. He’d needed water in the night, but he hadn’t wanted to leave Steve’s side, so he’d forgone it, ignoring his needs.

\--

“Hey.” Steve sits up, blinking the sleep from his eyes. Winter’s hair and clothes are rumpled, as if he’d been sleeping in the chair. It occurs to Steve that there was only ever one bed in Bucky’s room. And while it could fit the three of them easily, he’s not sure Bucky wants to share a bed with Winter. He knows James doesn’t want to share with Bucky.

They need more beds. Maybe separate rooms. And extra towels, toiletries, toothbrushes--all kinds of things that hadn’t occurred to Steve yesterday, when they were actually at the store.

“Have you been here all night?” he asks. “You can lay down on the bed next time if you want. It’s okay, and it’d be a lot more comfortable.” But of course Winter wouldn’t do that unless someone directly told him it was okay. He won’t do anything if he doesn’t have permission.

It’s only been a day, and Steve’s already been so stupid.

\--

Winter is slow to get up, his limbs stiff and uncomfortable from sitting so long in the same position. He makes his way over to the bed, sitting cross-legged on the side that’s unoccupied. “I was here.” He says after a while, giving Steve a small smile.

\--

His voice sounds rough. Rough even for the Soldier. Steve wonders if it occurs to him now to feed himself or drink water. James and Bucky still have their appetites, but Winter always relied on others to feed him while he was in captivity, and rarely surfaced before the separation. Steve’s stomach sinks. He’s going to have to pay more attention to Winter now. There’s so much the man doesn’t understand.

“I’m glad,” he says. He doesn’t want Winter to feel unwelcome, not ever. “Thank you for watching me.” Then he hesitates, trying to find a way to suggest the man care for himself without making it sound as though Steve doesn’t want him here.

“I’m going to make breakfast,” he says finally. “Want to take a shower? The food will be ready by the time you’re out.”

\--

“All the soap is Bucky’s.” Winter says slowly. He wants to shower, wants to wash away the grime that he feels, but he- He doesn’t want to end up using someone else’s things. Not without permission. He runs the flesh hand through his hair, pulling it away from his eyes. He knows Bucky has hair ties somewhere. Considering how short the man’s hair is now, maybe he’ll be allowed to use those, when his hair gets uncomfortable. There are so many things that are _Bucky’s_ , not his. He doesn’t know what he can and can’t do, not anymore.

\--

“We’ll get you your own soap,” Steve promises. “And toothpaste, and everything else you’ll need. James too. I’m sorry I didn’t think of that yesterday. For now, you can use my soap, okay?”

They’ll have to take this one step at a time. There’s so much that’s new to Winter, so much they’ll have to be careful about if they want to avoid another situation like the one in the car yesterday. And that’s without getting into James’s emotional state.

But it’s a new day. Steve intends to make the best of it.

\--

“Your soap. Okay.” He’ll get to smell like Steve. He’s always liked how Steve smells, even if he’s never _said_ it. He thinks saying something like that would constitute as one of Stark’s ‘awkward moments.’ “I will be back.”

Winter remembers, halfway to the bathroom, that his bags of clothes are still in the Commander’s apartment. He’s not certain if he’s supposed to leave Steve, at all, since he was practically given the job of looking him over. Maybe- Maybe Steve won’t mind if he steals some of his clothes. Just for the time being. He eventually grabs some loose, soft pants and a shirt. There’s an abundance of those, though he hasn’t seen Steve wear them that often. Maybe they’re for the days where Steve closes his doors and doesn’t let anyone come in. Everything soft and quiet and non-committal.

He doesn’t know.

What he _does_ know is that the hot spray of the shower head is heavenly. It feels as though he’s wiping away evil and sin itself. Even if the past couple days have been _good_ , being dirty didn’t help his rollercoaster of a mood. Now at least he’ll be clean, soft, and smelling of Steve. Everyone will know he belongs to Steve, then. That’s good.

\--

It’s not until Steve is staring into the refrigerator that he realizes the glaring problem.

Bucky’s appetite has always been subdued, but he’s still a _super soldier_. Even the smallest amount of calories he can get by on is still at least twice what the average person takes in. And now there’s three of him. Winter will definitely retain that appetite. Since Bucky’s missing an arm, presumably he’s reverted to the time directly after his fall, when his metabolism was already altered from Zola’s experiments at the prison camp. And James--well, Steve has no idea about James, but it’s possible that he’s as genetically modified as his counterparts.

That’s at least three super soldiers in one apartment, possibly four. He doesn’t have enough bacon and eggs to satisfy all of that. Hell, he’s not sure the whole refrigerator would satisfy that. He should probably raid the communal kitchen.

But it seems wrong to leave Winter like that. He’s clearly still confused about all of this, and Steve can’t blame him.

So he starts on what is there, and he waits.

\--

He hopes Steve doesn’t mind him taking a while. There’s been a few times, when they were all still one _Barnes_ , where he surfaced in the shower. On purpose, even, because the warm water was calming, soothing; a direct opposition to the cold spray and harsh water that he’s used to, with Hydra. Winter has always loved showers, and now he can- He’s able to be alone with his thoughts, enjoy it for as long as he wishes without either of the others hitting against the walls in their collective minds.

Getting out of the shower is almost just as nice, though, and by the time he comes to the kitchen, barefoot and warm with his hair soft and almost curled from the shower, he feels… Well, he’s not sure if happiness is possible for him, but it’s close. He’s got one of his small non-smiles as he sits down at the table, watching the way Steve moves at the stove.

\--

“Hey,” Steve says, giving him a smile as he flips the bacon. Winter looks content, as far as Steve can tell, and if there’s anyone who deserves contentment, it’s him. He’s a little surprised to see the man in his clothes, but then, they did leave everything in Rumlow’s living room.

Rumlow. The spatula almost slips in Steve’s hand. That’s where James was sleeping when Brock ordered Winter to send Steve to bed. Where’s James now? What if he’s slipped into the lab and injured himself? What if Tony or Bucky told him the truth about the machine that’s supposed to keep him from aging?

“Jarvis.” Steve’s careful to keep any anxiety from his voice. Winter’s _happy_. He can’t ruin that. “Where’s James right now?”

“Master Barnes is on Agent Rumlow’s floor of the tower,” Jarvis reports. “He is awake and under Agent Rumlow’s observation.”

Good. Maybe Rumlow gave him some of those pancakes for breakfast.

\--

“Are we going to the others for breakfast?” It doesn’t look like it; the amount of food Steve’s making looks like it’s just for them but- He hasn’t. Winter hasn’t really been _alone_ with Steve. Not in a long time. Very rarely and never so- He’s alone in his head, without the guidance of the others. Why would Steve want to spend time with him alone? He’s the killer and the murderer who knows Steve only from the Mission notes he was given. He doesn’t know why Steve would ever want to be in a room alone with him.

\--

“Uh.” Steve flushes a little, scooping everything onto the plates. “I forgot just how much food it takes to feed a group of super soldiers. I figured maybe we could eat, and then get some food for the others if they haven’t yet?”

He sets the plates down gently. It occurs to him that Winter’s clearest memories of being alone with Steve are likely the times they fought each other. Maybe he should have thought this through. The poor guy probably feels trapped at a table with the man who once strangled him until he blacked out.

\--

Winter makes a soft hum of acknowledgement, realizing only when the plate is pushed in front of him just how hungry he is. Maybe his metabolism is even weirder than normal, with the energy increase that was required to tear him apart. “Alright. Did- Did you sleep okay?” Was it too- Was he too surreal, sitting next to Steve, for the man to actually sleep properly? Steve needs his sleep. The bags beneath his eyes testify to that.

\--

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I did. I needed that, so thanks.” It feels weird to be thanking someone for sending him to bed, but this is Winter’s second day of being his own person, and Steve wants him to feel encouraged. Besides, it’s better if Winter doesn’t think Steve’s sleeping habits are something to emulate.

He doesn’t wonder out loud about how James slept, or Bucky. It’s also better if Winter doesn’t feel responsible for the pair of them, and that kind of speculation would probably make him feel as if Steve expected him to take care of it.

“Let me know if you need more food.”

\--

“...This is enough. You need to eat, too.” He shovels a mouthful of eggs in his mouth, trying to give Steve a content look. He’s not sure if he succeeds- He’s still not. Expressions and emulating human emotions on his face is still such a _foreign_ concept. Maybe it isn’t. Maybe it’s just the training inside him that forced his mouth thin and emotionless, his eyes cold and dead. He knows it’s eerie, now. Uncomfortable. So he tries to fix it, tries to look how the others emote.

He’s pretty sure he looks more like he’s straining than showing genuine feeling.

\--

“It’s okay,” Steve says softly. Judging from the forced look on Winter’s face, Steve can imagine what’s going on in his head. He’s always run on missions. Being a person is the mission now. And knowing Winter, it’s a mission he must think he has to excel at.

“There’s not just one way to be a person,” Steve says, hoping it assures him instead of making him feel overwhelmed with choices. “It’s...a process. It never really ends. You don’t have to get everything perfect right away.”

\--

Winter blinks. Is Steve reading his mind? _Can_ he read his mind? He didn’t- It’s. He blinks again, trying to take in the words while also not feeling the inklings of worry and fear in his chest. If Steve can read his mind, he’ll have to be careful with his thoughts, careful not to think things that Steve would disapprove of. “...Okay.” Is all he ends up saying, not entirely sure what- What response Steve _wants._

\--

“I--” Steve hesitates. He’s probably stepping over some boundary in saying this, but shouldn’t Winter have some comfort? Some assurance that his _existence_ isn’t an aberration? “I’m glad you’re here. I mean, you were always here, but. Separately. I’m glad you get a chance now to have your own experiences.”

\--

“...You are?” He doesn’t understand how his existence, filled to the brim with blood and gore and murder, would be something that Steve is _glad_ about. Of the three, he’s the one who should be _gone_ , eradicated, pushed to the dredges of humanity’s ugly past.

\--

“Yeah.” Steve gives him another smile. “Now you get the chance to do the things you _want_ to do, or even just figure out what you want.” Maybe that’s overwhelming, so he adds, “Like you did with the sweaters. You won’t be ordered around anymore, or hidden away. That’s wonderful, Winter. It really is.”

\--

Steve somehow, despite so many reasons not to, cares about him. He feels his lips turn up at the corners, a small smile at the utter _shock_ of it all. He knows Steve was pretending but- Now it’s. He’s serious, honest. “I’ll learn. Be someone… Good.” Moral, and just… Good in the way Steve wants him.

\--

Steve wants to reach out and hug him. Or at the very least, pat him on the shoulder. He’s finally starting to grasp what a blessing this is. But maybe that’s too much, too fast, so Steve just echoes his smile before returning his gaze to his own plate.

“Let me know if you’re still hungry once you’re through,” he says. “We can always get more.”

\--

Winter gives a small nod and returns to his food, hardly taking the time to taste it. His stomach is demanding he eat _now_. It’s only when the food is nearly gone that he can actually start enjoying the taste. The others might say that Steve is a horrible cook, but Winter isn’t used to food that would even be considered edible let alone an old fashioned American breakfast. “Thank you. It’s very good. You’re a better cook than Bucky says.”

\--

Steve flushes, unable to keep another smile from spreading, and just as he’s stuck a forkful of food into his mouth. That’s attractive. He ducks his head down.

“Thanks,” he says once his mouth is clear. “Bucky’s got a lot of memories influencing him, though. Back before the war, once I almost burned the kitchen down.”

\--

Winter blinks, tilting his head slowly. “ _How_? Are you going to do it again?”

\--

Steve can’t keep from giggling. He can still picture the _look_ on Bucky’s face when he’d stumbled out of bed and into the smoke-filled room. For once, it was Bucky who’d been sick, and Steve had nearly killed them both in his attempt to be the one caring for Bucky. 

“I left a dishrag too close to a stove burner by mistake,” he explains. “It ignited, and then it was up against a grocery sack--a paper one--and that caught fire. It was a mess. It’s okay, though. I won’t do it again. Jarvis wouldn’t let me.”

\--

Winter flicks his eyes up to the ceiling for a second, then looks back at Steve, nodding. “The AI will stop you from making mistakes. A mistake that would have been rectified if you hadn’t tried cooking in the first place.” His lips quirk up for a second, and he says, “If it- I have never cooked. I’m likely worse than you.”

\--

“I guarantee you’re more careful,” Steve says. He’s grinning now, thinking of all the disasters he caused in the kitchen both before and after the ice. Bucky had a point. More than a point. “You’re just lucky that now we have enough money that I can spare you from tasting my mistakes. Last week, I knocked over almost a full bottle of chili powder into the soup. I just didn’t inflict that on anybody.”

\--

“... Perhaps you should leave the cooking to one of the others. Maybe the Commander? He is very good at cooking.” Surprisingly. He doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would be a good cook. Then again, Steve seems like he would be excellent at it.

\--

“Has he ever made anything besides pancakes?” Steve ask, arching a brow. “I’m not sure it counts as good at cooking if he only has the one thing.”

It probably does. Steve’s just too stubborn to admit that Brock’s pancakes are superior to his own.

\--

Winter shrugs slowly. “Just pancakes. The child’s enthusiasm might be coloring my memories of how good they are, too.” Probably not; the memories of James and Bucky are fading fast, so any memories of his are likely to be, well, _his_. But he’s trying to make Steve feel a _little_ better about his subpar cooking skills.

\--

“Definitely doesn’t count,” Steve announces. “Being mediocre at a variety of stuff tops one really good recipe. Absolutely.”

\--

“It wouldn’t hurt to have one very good recipe on _top_ of the mediocre ones.” Winter says slowly, then tilts his head. “You should ask him to cook for you. Maybe he’s good at cooking in general.”

\--

“I might,” Steve says. It’s not like their relationship is such that he’d have to pretend to love it to spare Brock’s feelings if he turns out to be awful at any non-pancake foods. But he’ll probably be fantastic.

Maybe Steve will just delegate all cooking duties to Bucky from now on to save face.

\--

“Have you two gone on a _date_? I know- I know Bucky was curious.” And for some reason, so is Winter. He wants to know. He wants to understand their relationship and how it and dating in general works. Especially in regards to Steve.

\--

“I-- _no_.” Steve sputters. Wow. James isn’t the only one who can blurt out completely disarming questions. And why are both of their insane questions about Brock?

Okay, probably because his relationship with Brock is fucked up in infinite ways. But _still_.

“Brock doesn’t like going out in public,” Steve says. “And the publicity if we were seen together--it would be almost as bad as the media during your trial.”

\--

“Stark has had dates in the Tower. You could do that.” He shrugs. It’s not like he perfectly understands the intricacies of dating and relationships. And a relationship like the one between Steve and the Commander? Is absolutely impossible to understand. It’s so… Convoluted. He’s not sure where the hatred ends and the affection begins. “I can come.” So they don’t fight, of course.

\--

Steve had always thought spitting out a drink in shock was something that only happened in movies. As he finds now, coughing and drenched with water from the waist to the knees.

“I--thanks for the offer,” he manages once he stops choking. “I--I’ll ask Brock about that, Winter. Thanks.”

\--

Winter blinks and sits back in his chair a little, wide-eyed. Steve’s _words_ are positive, but. “Did I say something wrong?” Why is he so shocked?

\--

“No!” Steve says. “No, I promise. I--I’m glad you care, Winter, really I am. It’s just...Brock and I are kind of private about stuff. That’s all. We’re still trying to work out exactly what we are, and we don’t want to drag other people into it right now.”

\--

“...Okay.” Winter says slowly, and gives a nod. “I’m sorry. I don’t- I don’t understand those relationships. They’re confusing.” He could hardly understand the relationship the commander had with Agent Rollins, let alone the confusing tangled thread of yarn that constitutes whatever the commander has with Steve.

\--

“It’s okay,” Steve says, and now he can’t stop himself from reaching out and resting his hand on Winter’s shoulder. “We don’t understand it, and we’re the ones in it. Relationships are complicated for everyone.”

\--

Winter nods and gives a soft hum, almost leaning into the touch that Steve is giving him before asking, softly, “What are we? In relation to one another?”

\--

“I--We’re friends,” Steve says immediately. He never wants Winter to doubt that, not for a second. “Bucky was my best friend before the war, and then after we got you all back after Insight. And now you’re separate, and I have three best friends. I love Bucky, and I love James, and I love you. You’re so important to me, Winter.”

\--

“You _love_ me? What does that- I don’t understand.” How could anyone love him? What even _is_ love, for a monster like him?

\--

“Of course I love you.” Steve can see it again, written all over Winter’s face. When he’s not trying to force emotions, he has no idea how to hide them, and his confusion is so raw and plain. Steve can’t help but lean into him, holding tighter as though that can impress his sincerity. “I’ll always love you, Winter. There’s nothing you could ever do to be undeserving of love.”

\--

“That’s not true. You shouldn’t love me.” It just blurts out, and he immediately pushes back, sucking in a lip because he mouthed off. Not only that, but he told Steve he was _wrong_ for feeling something. He’s terrible. Horrible. And that’s not the worst of it. “Why would you? It’s- You really should hate me.” He shouldn’t even have to go into the why’s.

\--

“Winter,” Steve says, and then falters. What can he say? What words would convince a person who’s always thought of himself as a possession, a weapon, that he’s more than that? It had taken so long just to convince Winter that he could be a person. And love, in all its facets, is infinitely harder to explain.

Steve doesn’t explain. Overwhelmed with a need to comfort, thoughtlessly, he leans in closer and presses his lips to Winter’s frowning mouth.

\--

It’s a shock to suddenly have Steve all around him, against him and touching him softly. The frown on his mouth gives way to a surprised _oh_ , before snapping shut, pushing his lips out immediately to allow Steve better access. He doesn’t move. He- Steve wants to kiss him and he’s not going to make it hard for him.

He doesn’t _understand_. Is this- Is Steve trying to say he loves him? Because Winter already knows that, he _said_ it. He shouldn’t love him- Shouldn’t love a monster like him but-

Oh. Kissing. That makes sense. He knows, now, what Steve wants from him. What he’s been too nice to admit, under the guise of his _I’m not your Owner_. He wants companionship, and Winter is very- He’s so-.

Winter can give him the affection he wants and needs. It won’t even be a lie, not really. Winter likes Steve, loves him himself, maybe, so it makes it easier. Much easier, because anything that Steve commands be reciprocated will be genuine. He presses a little closer, letting his lips move more naturally against the kiss, fall into it with a practiced ease.

\--

Steve jerks away just as Winter moves closer, the color draining from his face. Again. First he started making out with Rumlow in an elevator and now he’s gone and done the same awful thing _again_. To a man who was used as a sex slave and barely understands that he has autonomy. What the hell is wrong with him?

He’s supposed to be a hero. Not some monster who preys on people in their weakest moments. It doesn’t matter if he meant it as a sign of love. It’s appalling.

“I’m sorry.” Damage control. He has to let Winter know that this isn’t a rejection of him. Has to let Winter know that Steve is the one in the wrong. “I’m so sorry, Winter. I had no right to do that. It’s--this is your body now. It’s no one else’s, and I didn’t have any right to do that without your consent. I’m sorry. I’ll go.”

\--

Winter’s face crumples up into a confusing _mess_ of emotions, and he slowly shakes his head, licking at his lips. He doesn’t- He _just_ got a grip on this reality, on what Steve wants from him, and now it’s even more confusing than it started out as. “You can- I liked it. The kiss. I did.”

Taking aside the mess of obedience in his head, he _did_ like it. He loves Steve, and likes when he’s given affection from the man. There’s not much else in the world that he could say he _loves_ , and of those, Steve’s the most important.

\--

“It’s--” Steve can’t even stop stammering over his words to process that. “It’s not something I should do--something _anyone_ should do--without asking. Winter, if someone kisses you, that should be something you _want_. Not just something you like once it’s already happened. I can’t just use you like Pierce did. It’s wrong. I never want to mistreat you.”

\--

Steve _doesn’t_ want him like that, then. Well, not the way Hydra used him. He wants a normal, genuine relationship. Like Winter is a normal, genuine human being and not the fucked up piece of useless equipment that he’s _actually_ become. “You’re not like Pierce. You would- You stopped to feel guilt for not asking. Pierce wouldn’t.”

He shakes his head slowly and runs fingers through his damp hair, trying to think on how to explain to Steve what it is he feels. Wants. “You’re not like Pierce. You _aren’t_. And. I- I did like it. The kiss. I like you, not just- Not just as an owner, or a master.”

\--

“I still should have asked,” Steve insists. “I will never, ever touch you again without asking.”

That’s the easiest thing to address. He can’t handle the thought that Winter likes kissing him. That Winter _likes_ him. He must mean as a friend. He _has_ to. Bucky didn’t like Steve that way. Steve was closer to him than anyone, and he would have known. There was a certain light to Bucky’s eyes that Steve was never the one to cause.

He’s not sure if Bucky ever liked a man that way. Steve had hoped, sure, had laid awake some nights just _praying_ , but it was never any more than a one-sided fantasy. He can’t let himself project something into Winter’s words that isn’t there. He _won’t_. If he lets himself slip into that, who knows what could happen?

\--

Something flutters in Winter’s stomach. He doesn’t understand what it is or what it means, but it’s _there_ , and he knows part of it is because Steve is… Is this respect? He’s not sure. He _isn’t_ , but he also doesn’t want Steve to be afraid to touch him, not when he really _does_ like it. He blinks at him slowly and says, “Can you do it again?”

\--

No. He needs to say no. Say that they’re too close to this situation, both of them, and they need time--and more experience with humanity, in Winter’s case--to figure out what the hell is going on and what a kiss even _means_ between them.

But he just told Winter he’d respect what he wanted, provided it wasn’t something forced upon him. How can Winter believe anything he’s said if he refuses? But how does he know that Winter isn’t still just trying to please him?

And Steve...Steve does want to kiss him. It’s wrong. It’s not fair to Brock. Or to Winter. The man can’t even understand why anyone would _love_ him, so how can Steve drag him into this emotional whirlpool? How can he sort out his feelings for the man that, until yesterday, he was occasionally a father to?

“Are you sure?”

\--

“...Yes. Please? I- I want to know if I want it. Fully, like you want me to.” He tilts his head slightly, trying to filter through all the emotions he feels. He ends up holding his hand over his stomach, almost clawed as he gestures to it. “I- I feel something. I want to know what it means.”

\--

This is a terrible idea. A horrible idea. Right up there with ‘invading Russia in the winter’ levels of bad ideas.

But Steve nods. Slowly, gently, he puts his mouth back to Winter’s, his lips just barely parted. He’ll let Winter do what he wants. Work out whatever he needs to.

\--

Winter is slow to respond, just letting himself feel the way Steve’s lips press against his with hesitation, feels the way Steve’s breath coasts across his mouth with small puffs of warmth. Steve is lovely, wonderful, and after a moment of nothing, he presses against him further. He’s not sure what is and isn’t allowed- He’s used to being pliant and responsive for his partner, so hopefully Steve knows how to lead. He doesn’t. He’s not made for leading.

\--

Steve doesn’t move. He can’t. It’s some desperate decision his mind has just made, as if keeping still absolves him of whatever the hell this is.

But then Winter’s still against him too, hesitant. Of course he doesn’t know what he’s doing. He’s never had a kiss that wasn’t forced.

“Do whatever you want,” Steve murmurs against Winter’s lips. “I’ll like it. I promise.”

\--

“...What do _you_ want?” Winter asks slowly. His stomach flutters again at the way his lips brush against Steve’s when he speaks, and he’s starting to think the emotion in his stomach is a mix of love and want and need, rolled into one. He likes it.

\--

What can he say to that? Truth be told, Steve wouldn’t mind just sitting like this, either still or with the faint buzz of Winter speaking against his own lips. He’s wanted this since long before the war. He’s dizzy just trying to remember that this is real.

He can’t put how to kiss into words. Even if he could, he’s not sure he can speak. Slowly, gently, he brings up his hands to frame Winter’s face and tries to guide him.

\--

There is genuine affection behind all of Steve’s movements, all of his intents. It makes the kiss so much different than the ones he’s used to. The ones from before were full of pity and power, with him as nothing more than a tool and a pliant mouth. His mouth had better uses than kissing, anyways.

Now, though. Now everything is just warm and soft with no expectation of _more_ , no sight of _less_ anytime soon. With Steve’s guidance, he falls into the kiss, letting his mind and body do the work for him. Lets himself _explore_ , finding sheer pleasure from finding a new angle of Steve’s lips, finding the way portions of his flesh dip and rise to make _him_.

He hums against his mouth, shoulders dropping as he relaxes almost all the way fully. Certainly more relaxed than he’s been in- Well. It’s hard to keep track. Winter presses deeper.

\--

It doesn’t take long for Winter to get the hang of it, to break the pattern Steve’s guided him in and make it his own. Bucky had always been better at kissing. Not that he’d kissed _Steve_ , but Steve had seen him with enough dates to know.

He lets Winter lead then, moving only in response so that Winter won’t think he’s done something displeasing. It’s _perfect_. Steve could stay like this forever, the world around them be damned.

\--

Everything- Every piece of furniture, the kitchen, his _thoughts_ fall away immediately. It’s wonderful and complete. It is, Winter thinks, the closest he can get to that beautiful moment before he was given a mission, but had been woken up. Steve and his mouth are the only things in the world, and it fills his head with a buzzing, pleasing static. He doesn’t want to move. Not _ever_.

\--

It’s Jarvis who interrupts, and if he hadn’t, they might have just stayed that way until the lack of proper airflow knocked them out.

“Captain Rogers?”

It takes every ounce of Steve’s control to keep from jerking away. Jarvis’s warning of Bucky coming into the room just as he and Rumlow had finished fucking for the first time is fresh in Steve’s mind now. Is someone about to walk in? How does he even begin to explain this?

But he can’t make Winter feel rejected. A kiss isn’t something to be ashamed of, and Winter would certainly interpret shame on Steve’s part as shame at touching _him_. “Yes?” He can’t quite hide the exasperation in his voice.

“I thought you would appreciate an update on what Master Barnes and Agent Rumlow are doing,” Jarvis says, and Steve’s stomach plummets.

Great. What if James is screaming and Brock’s handling it with all the grace and calm Steve’s come to expect from him? What if he’s feeding the kid straight sugar for breakfast? “What’s happening?”

“Currently, Agent Rumlow is cutting out strips of paper,” Jarvis says. “Three hundred and sixty-five strips, to be precise. Master Barnes is gluing the ends of the strips together and forming a chain. The chain will serve as a calendar, with one link removed at the end of each day. The last link of chain is glued to a sheet of paper. On this paper, Master Barnes had Agent Rumlow write the words ‘Tony promised.’”

Great.

\--

Winter’s confused and upset face slowly gives way to a smile and then a _laugh_ and he doesn’t know why, exactly. Maybe it’s this cycle of emotions, feeling everything fully and constantly all at once. Maybe he’s going deranged. But it’s- It’s _hilarious_ for some reason, and he laughs and slumps against Steve, his body still loose and relaxed from the kiss.

\--

Steve’s own sigh is cut short when he hears Winter laughing. Then he’s smiling too, fighting back a giggle in spite of himself. This isn’t funny, really. It just goes to show that nothing was really resolved yesterday, and to highlight that they’ll be right back where they started when the truth finally comes out.

But it’s so _ridiculous_. He can’t keep from laughing.

\--

“He’ll- He will forget eventually. But- I can’t imagine the Commander being happy to cut paper.” Winter says slowly, trying to imagine the grimace on Brock’s face for every strip of paper that James brings to him.

\--

“Would you forget?” Because that’s what James is, isn’t he? What the Winter Soldier thought a child would be when Pierce ordered him to act like one. Within those first few minutes after the separation, Winter and James had already been flocking to each other. And Steve can’t imagine the Winter Soldier just forgetting something like that.

“I’m amazed Brock didn’t spill the beans right there,” Steve mutters. No doubt he’s complaining his way through every strip he cuts. But maybe he’s afraid of setting James off again, and Steve can’t blame him for that. He’s afraid to.

Tony’s going to have to be the one to solve this mess.

\--

“I… I’m not five. My attention is different, now.” Winter says slowly, thinking. “James can’t think of things for long.” He knows him and the child are supposed to be one, but it’s not _like_ that anymore, and the two of them will be irreparably different for the rest of their lives. It’s a good thing.

\--

“Unless there’s a sign like that in his room reminding him,” Steve says grimly. With how much James is obsessing over this, Steve’s not even sure he’d need the sign.

“Jarvis, where’s Bucky?” He doesn’t want to throw Tony straight back into this, not after they forced him to deal with James’s existential crisis yesterday. Maybe Bucky can distract James for now. Or at least he can distract Brock.

\--

“Sergeant Barnes is currently in his own bedroom. He left last night, once Master Barnes spit in his face.” Jarvis’ voice is cool, but Winter can _hear_ the subtle amusement in the AI’s voice.

\--

“He _what_?” Steve doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“Yesterday evening, Sergeant Barnes attempted to remove the boy from Agent Rumlow’s couch to place him in his own bed,” Jarvis explains. “Master Barnes woke up and did not cooperate.”

“Maybe we should check on Bucky.” Bucky _loves_ the kid. It’s plain on his face whenever he looks at him. That rejection has to sting, even if it is coming from a cranky child.

\--

“He won’t be happy.” Winter agrees slowly. He touches lightly at his own lips for a moment, relishing in the soft buzzing feeling of them, before nodding. Maybe Steve will let them kiss again, later. Maybe. Right now? There are more important things to deal with.

\--

Steve offers his hand as he stands, and once Winter takes it, he gives Winter’s hand a squeeze. This--whatever this _is_ \--they need to talk about it. But they can’t let the others suffer while they only focus on their own issues.

\--

Winter watches Steve’s face as they get up, tracking the way the emotions flit across his face. Steve _likes_ him. Likes him enough to kiss and hold and proclaim love to. He’s not quite sure what the means, or how he feels in return, but the thought of Steve caring for him in this way is so undeniably wonderful that it lessens the slow-drum beat of worry that’s underneath his other thoughts. Worry for Bucky, worry for James. Worry for all of them.

“Can we kiss again, later?”

\--

Steve can feel the blush creeping all the way up to the tip of his ears. “I--yes,” is all he can stammer out, rushing into the elevator as though that will somehow stop the conversation. _Great thinking_ , he chides himself. Because things had turned out so well the last time he was in an elevator alone with Brock.

He wants to kiss Winter again. It’s an actual, physical _thirst._ But there’s so much going on and so many emotions tied up in this, and he shouldn’t say things like that so rashly.

They find Bucky face-down in his bed, tangled in the sheets. He seems to take rejection from five year olds exactly the way he used to take rejection from girls.

\--

Bucky’s pretty sure Jarvis informed him that Steve and Winter were on their way up, but that was exactly ten minutes ago, and he fell back asleep around seven minutes ago. So it’s a bit of a shock to wake up to Steve standing in his room. Huffing, he tries to fidget and realizes that he’s tangled up in his sheets, that for some reason he slept on his stomach and-

Oh, yeah. That’s why. He didn’t have the best end to a night that he could have. Kid spit in his face, he got upset, then proceeded to drink until he passed out. And hey, the drinking wasn’t _just_ because he was pissed and mad at himself over James- He hasn’t really been able to drink much since coming to the Tower. Because of the kid, mostly, and since he realized he was free-

“Hey, Steve.” He mumbles out and sits up slowly, pushing his hair out of his eyes. His voice is scraggly and severely dehydrated, but he’s coherent. That’s enough.

\--

“Bucky,” Steve says. And here he hadn’t thought Bucky could _get_ hung over anymore. Maybe he’s not. Sure, he sounds like shit, but he isn’t clutching at his head or heaving or any of the things he used to do. It’s possible that this is all emotional turmoil.

“Please tell me you did not wipe out an entire liquor cabinet because James got mad at you.”

\--

“...Not… Entirely? I mean, he definitely put me in a shitty mood. Hey, you had to be physically _pulled_ from Rumlow’s place, so don’t judge me.” Okay, so maybe he drank a little too much and is still a little buzzed. And okay- Fine. He’s over exaggerating _everything_ that happened in regards to Steve.

\--

Steve rolls his eyes. “You need to drink. _Water_. We have to check on James and I think that’ll go better if you don’t feel like you just sandpapered your throat.”

Because Bucky is coming with them, no arguments. He’s not going to have his friend in bed all day lamenting James’s scorn.

\--

Bucky flicks his gaze towards Winter and gives a self-satisfied nod when the man immediately moves to go find a cup of water for Bucky. Might be a dense motherfucker, but at least he knows what Bucky needs or wants. “James doesn’t wanna see me. He won’t even talk to me.”

\--

“Buck, he’s _five years old_.” Honestly. Bucky’s the one who has experience as a big brother. Sure, his siblings weren’t literally parts of him that were torn out and made into separate beings, but surely the same principle still applies. “It’s not like your sisters never gave you the silent treatment.”

\--

“That is _very_ different. And somehow, James is _much_ more persistent than all of my sisters combined.” Bucky shakes his head and gives a grateful smile when Winter moves back into the room to give him a water bottle. He takes a few moments to chug the entire thing, mentally hating the fuzziness of his teeth and the vile breath that he _knows_ still smells like booze. “...You really think he’ll be okay with me, soon?”

\--

“Wonder where he gets that,” Steve says, rolling his eyes. For all that Bucky calls Steve a stubborn idiot, Bucky’s just as pigheaded when he sets his mind on something. “Yeah, I do, Buck. I mean, he’s _you_. Besides, right now the only person comforting him is Rumlow.” Steve shrugs. “I mean, if you want Rumlow parenting your kid, I guess we can leave him to it.”

\--

“...Fuck. No, let’s go. He’s probably already got the kid whispering ‘Hail Hydra’ to the tune of the ABC’s.” He scrambles to get out of the bed immediately, trying to ignore Steve’s mention of _your kid_. ‘Cause if he’s anyone’s kid, he’s Steve’s. No doubt about it. He doesn’t _know_ where he himself fits into the picture.

\--

“Brush your teeth first,” Steve orders, shaking his head. He’s going to end up snuggling James at some point. It’s inevitable. And it’d be a better example for the kid if Bucky doesn’t reek of booze whenever it happens.

“Thanks for getting him the water,” he adds to Winter.

\--

“Fine, _mom_.” Bucky mutters, but he does as told. Brushes his teeth and puts deodorant on and does everything he can to appear like a well-put-together person. _Winter_ looks amazing. So much more like a person than Bucky could have ever conceived. But if anyone deserves to look happy and comfortable, it’s fucking _Winter_.

\--

“Jarvis,” Steve says as they’re filing into the elevator. “Are James and Brock still working on their arts and crafts project?” He really doesn’t want to deal with that. Not before noon, at least.

“The calendar is completed, Captain Rogers,” Jarvis answers. “Master Barnes had Agent Rumlow record the day’s date on it, and also told me to inform him of any tampering to the structure.”

Steve swears that Jarvis is smirking, even if he doesn’t have a face.

\--

Winter finds it so very odd that since the kiss, all he wants to do is touch Steve. Even though it would likely be inappropriate, and Bucky isn’t aware of the relationship changes, he just wants to hold Steve’s hand, doubly so now that they’re in the small confines of the elevator. He compromises by standing extremely close to Steve instead.

Bucky looks uncomfortable. Maybe he, too, misses being three people pushed into one. Winter knows he misses the emotional depth that Bucky has. “What calendar?” Bucky asks slowly. He’s got another water bottle; maybe he doesn’t have much of the serum anymore and actually got messed up. Winter’s not sure it would even affect him.

\--

Steve sighs deeply. He scoots a little closer to Winter himself, almost unconsciously. It’s inappropriate and risky and _stupid_ , but fuck it. The past day has been absolutely insane. He’s allowed to linger close to a friend in these circumstances.

“James made himself a chain calendar so he won’t forget that Tony promised to make him stop aging a year from now,” he says dryly. “And Rumlow went along with it because I guess he didn’t want James to have another tantrum.”

\--

“...This kid is insane.” Bucky says slowly, huffing out a long, slow breath. “Who’s gonna tell him this _isn’t_ happening? Like no matter what he wants?”

\--

“Tony.” The answer is immediate. “He’s the one who told James he would. He gets to be the one to tell him that he won’t.”

Was it fair to Tony to drag him into the kid’s emotional meltdown in the first place? No. But Steve will be damned if he’s dealing with the fallout of Tony’s lie.

\--

“Yeah, ‘cause if Stark caused this he’ll totally know how to fix it. _Definitely_ how Stark works.” Bucky rolls his eyes. “Kid might not cry too much if you tell him.”

\--

“He’s going to cry no matter who tells him.” Steve shakes his head. “We need to get the doctors here. Maybe they’ll know what to say without completely destroying him.”

And there’s the issue of all the medications Bucky had been taking. Does James still need them? Do they all? There’s no way the doses Bucky had been on are going to be safe for the kid.

He can worry about that later, though, because right now the elevator is sliding open.


	7. Chapter 7

Even with the scar tissue, it turns out the Commander can still pick James up. He just has to be careful about how he lifts him, and James has to be careful not to squirm around and hurt the Commander’s skin. The Commander is holding James now as they sit on the couch, and it’s perfect. Being five year old-sized is the best thing ever. James can’t wait to have Natasha and Pepper and everybody else hold him.

Plus, he’s going to be even better at hide and seek now that he’s so little. And he was already really good at it.

He almost wants to play hide and seek right now, but the Commander seems tired from cutting up all the paper to make the Promise Calendar. James would have done it himself, but it’s hard to use scissors with just one hand, especially such a small one. So now they’re just sitting on the couch, with James cuddled up in the Commander’s arms.

His eyes are starting to drift shut when he hears the elevator swish open. James smiles, sitting up. “Hi Daddy! Hi Winter!”

\--

The TV is on, low enough to ignore, but high enough to hear, if Brock wanted to listen in. Not that he does- It’s some children’s show, and he was just about to fall asleep himself. He has to hand it to the wily kid- He’s warm and comfortable.

(He won’t examine the fact that he never thought he’d have a kid, a kid who _likes_ him, sitting on his lap like he’s in charge. It’s nice.)

“Oh, good. You three are back.” He mutters, and sits up a little, careful not to move the kid too much, or stretch his body too painfully. He watches them come in, and it doesn’t escape him that James doesn’t say hello to Bucky, either.

Christ, this kid’s attention span is longer than most _adults_.

\--

“Hey, James,” Daddy says. “Did you have breakfast already?”

James nods. “The Commander gave me cereal and he can pick me up and carry me if I hold really still and he can do it while I’m holding Bucky Bear too and he helped me make a calendar!”

All of that, plus cartoons, and it’s not even lunch time. It’s the best and he wants to stick his tongue out at Bucky, just to really rub it in, but he won’t give Bucky the satisfaction of his attention.

\--

Bucky smiles at the kid’s enthusiasm, coming to sit on the loveseat near the couch. The table is covered in scraps of paper and art supplies. He wonders where the hell Brock got it from, considering the precious commander isn’t exactly the ‘artsy’ type.

He knows what the calendar is for, but he wants James to speak to him, to acknowledge his presence. It’s kinda fucked that he wants his attention so bad, but seriously. He’s never met a kid who is so stubborn and so overdramatic. “What’s the calendar for, bug?”

\--

 _For the number of days until I get to have another fifth birthday and I don’t have to grow up like you said, you liar!_ James wants to say it. He wants to say it so bad that he aches, and he can actually feel himself shake in the Commander’s lap. He’d give anything to see the look on Bucky’s face when Bucky realizes that his stupid idea of how things are supposed to be isn’t going to happen.

But he’s already decided never to talk to Bucky again. And what if he tells Bucky and Bucky finds a way to make Tony break his promise?

So all James says is “Come sit by me, Winter.”

\--

Winter blinks and doesn’t know what to do about the shuttered look of disbelief and upset frowning crossing Bucky’s face. He opts to ignore it, moving to sit next to Brock and the kid. Brock shifts a little next to him, giving him a frown, but Winter wants to be near them both, anyways.

Since Winter has learned that holding hands with Steve is acceptable, he can only think of holding the Commander’s hand. That would be nice. And being next to James is always nice, too. James is still silent, and Winter looks down to him, then back at Bucky. “Bucky asked you a question, James.” Did he not hear him?

\--

“I didn’t hear anything,” James says.

It’s not true, and his tummy knots up when he says it, because lying is what bad boys do and no matter how long he’s been away from his last daddy, it still makes him sick to be bad. It makes him sick to pretend he didn’t see the way that Bucky looked, and he can’t be sick, so he just keeps talking.

“Yesterday Tony took me to the lab and I played with the robots and Tony’s going to make me all the arms I want. I can have a metal one and a see-through one and one that looks like Iron Man’s armor and even lights up.”

\--

“...That is a lot of arms.” Winter says slowly. Bucky wants to shout at them both; James for being an overdramatic brat, and Winter for not understanding that he’s being ridiculous. He can’t expect _Brock_ to say anything, and in fact, the man is just smirking ever so slightly at the conversation around him. Like it’s _funny_ that Bucky’s being ignored. Ugh.

“I want Tony to remove the star, I think. From my arm.” Winter continues, and Bucky can only think _fucking finally_.

\--

James frowns. “But it’s always been there.” Hasn’t everything changed enough? That’s like Pepper getting rid of her freckles or Lucky getting rid of his tail.

“James,” Daddy says. “Bucky asked what your calendar was for.”

But James almost doesn’t hear him either. The star’s been a part of him for as long as he can remember. He likes stars. Daddy has a star on his shield. “Why don’t you like the star?”

\--

“The star means I belong to Hydra. I don’t anymore.” Winter says, and cocks his head. “I don’t think it’s appropriate to have the star if I don’t belong to them.”

\--

“But it’s just a star,” James protests. He tries to scoot over onto Winter’s lap. He feels like he needs to touch the star, like he’ll never get the chance again. “Stars can mean anything you want. Daddy has them, and the flag has them, and the sky and stickers and all kinds of stuff!”

\--

“Those are good stars.” Winter pulls James onto him, letting him get comfortable how he wants. He notices that the commander looks both relieved and upset at the absence of the child. “This one is not.”

\--

“I want a star on my arm,” James says. He rests his head against Winter’s arm, and the metal is cool and solid and soothing against his skin. It hurts to think of Winter’s arm without his star. It’s like Winter’s saying that everything in the past was awful, but the past is the reason James even exists. “I don’t want stuff to change.”

\--

Winter looks down at him for a while, head cocked slightly to the side. “Maybe you can make the star blue. Or- make it a shield, like Steve’s.” That has a star, and that star is _good_. That’s not a huge change; maybe it’s acceptable for James.

\--

James doesn’t answer, feeling the star with his fingers. His tummy hurts and he feels like crying all of a sudden, even though this has been a really good morning. Even though Tony said he doesn’t _have_ to change.

He tries to breathe, but it comes out so loud and shaky.

\--

“You-” Winter blinks and looks up for a second, wide eyed and pleading with _any_ of the others. Did he say something wrong? “James, what is _wrong_?”

\--

“I don’t _know_.” He tries not to let his voice break. He knows how upset Winter gets when he cries. But when his voice doesn’t shake, his hand does. “I don’t feel good.”

“James, it’s okay,” Daddy says. “This is all still new for you. You’re allowed to be upset.”

But he doesn’t _want_ to be. And he doesn’t want Winter to be, either.

\--

“...It will be okay.” Winter frowns and, after a moment, shifts and picks James up fully in his arms to hand back off to Brock. Once Brock grabs him, looking at Winter like he’s _insane_ , Winter gets up off the couch.

Maybe James doesn’t like Winter right now.

\--

James reaches out to grab onto Winter’s sweater, but Winter’s already walking away. He’s not even _looking_ at James anymore. He wants to get rid of him just like he wants to get rid of the star.

And then James can’t help crying.

\--

Brock moves James so he’s facing him, frowning between James and then Winter and back again. “Kid, why are you crying? What the _hell_ is going on?” What the fuck just happened, and why is the kid crying? _Again_. He hasn’t cried in _hours_. It was amazing.

\--

“It’s not _fair_!” It’s not fair that Winter wants to get rid of him and it’s not fair that they get to show up and remind him how much they don’t want him when he was having a really good day before this. He doesn’t mean to shout at the Commander, but he’s too upset to do anything else.

\--

“...Most things aren’t fair.” Brock says, and frowns further. “But _what_ isn’t fair? Why are you _upset_?” He looks over James’ head at Steve, trying to give him a look. _Deal with your child_.

\--

“You wanna get rid of me! It’s not fair!”

“James.” That’s Daddy’s voice, and he can feel Daddy’s hand on his shoulder. “That’s not true. Nobody wants to get rid of you.”

“Yes it is! Nobody wants me here!”

\--

“Bug, we all want you.” Bucky says after a moment. Is he _allowed_ to speak to James now? The melodrama that emits off the kid is probably literally killing him, if he would stop and think about it for longer than a few seconds at a time. “No one’s getting rid of you, I promise.”

\--

“ _Liar_!” James can see the Commander wince from how loud he’s being, but he can’t help it. “You never wanted me around! I always made you feel embarrassed and stupid! And you don’t want me back and you want me to grow up so I can go live somewhere else and you don’t have to pretend to like me and Winter wants to get rid of the star and everything from HYDRA and that means me too and it’s not fair!”

\--

Bucky blinks and almost feels the need to take a step back. Christ, the kid has a pair of lungs on him. “You don’t have to live somewhere else and we don’t want to get rid of you. Just because- Just because someone wants to _change_ something doesn’t mean everything’s suddenly _bad_. I mean, Winter definitely has a right to want to remove himself from Hydra. We all do. And you’re not Hydra’s anymore, James.”

\--

“They made me.” James can’t stop crying, and the Commander’s hands are twitching around him. He doesn’t want to hold James anymore, just like Winter didn’t.

“James,” Daddy says. “You’re with us now--”

“You don’t want me either! You always wanted Bucky back and now you have him! And now I have to grow up and as soon as I don’t need grown-ups to take care of me anymore you’ll get rid of me because I won’t be cute and fun anymore and you already have the Bucky you like!”

\--

Winter shakes his head after a moment and steps away from Steve, going back to James to lift him off the Commander’s lap. Brock gives him a look of relief and immediately shifts into a better position than the one James forced him into.

James is pulled close, Winter’s face stern and serious when he says, “You will not be abandoned. I will always be with you, James.” He’s quiet for a second, and then his voice is just a hair lighter. “Besides. You will always be cute and fun. It is law.”

\--

James sniffles. He almost laughs, but he can’t. It sounds nice and he wants to believe Winter--Winter’s always tried to keep him safe, even when he was a bear--but Winter wants to get rid of the star. What if he changes his mind and wants to get rid of James too?

“You don’t like Hydra stuff,” he whispers. “That’s what I am.”

\--

“I was born from Hydra as well. But I’m changing. We can be different. Better.” Winter’s voice is solemn.

\--

“But…” James shakes his head, burying his face against Winter’s chest and scrunching up his fist in the fabric of Winter’s sweater. “I like how things are.”

He likes being small enough for Winter and Tony to carry him. He likes the way Winter looks now, without changing anything. And he even liked some of the things in Hydra, the parts that didn’t hurt.

“I’m happy like this,” he says. “I don’t want to change.”

\--

“Changing is important. I never changed before. And I will be in pain from that stagnancy for the rest of my life.” Winter presses his hands just a little tighter, so the kid feels secure, but not too tight that it will hurt. “Each day, you get to know that you can be better than you were the day before. You get to learn. That is a gift.”

If it were anyone else touting this nonsense, Winter would likely get pissed. After all, he was forbidden to change, forbidden to age and progress, and it kept him a disgusting, murderous monster. An embarrassing creature to be made fun of by Hydra techs and feared in the rest of the world. But the child doesn’t know; the child has never changed, and Winter knows from experience how terrifying it is to realize that his previous orders have been squashed like bugs.

\--

James can’t answer. He doesn’t want Winter to be in pain all the time. He doesn’t _understand_ why Winter hurts. Everyone’s perfect now, just as they are. Or it should be. But everything’s a mess, and James is crying against Winter’s pretty orange sweater and he can’t _stop_.

“I shouldn’t have to get bigger to learn,” he says. _Sobs_ , his words muffled by the sweater. Everybody says they’ll still love him. But he was made to be five, and his last daddy was never soft and sweet to Winter like he was to James. Winter existed for something else, and if James can’t be what he was made to be, nobody will love him. No matter what they say.

\--

“The more you learn, the bigger you want to be. Then you can do more.” Winter says. He lets James cry on him, doesn’t even move to stop him. If the child wants to cry, Winter will let him. Tears are important; even if he doesn’t understand them, he can’t be cruel like his old masters and demand he stop. “But you will be little for _years_. And I will always be able to hold you, no matter the age.”

\--

“I don’t need to do more,” James says. His tears are coming slower now; he’s running out of them. Both his eyes and throat are so sore from all the crying yesterday and today. “That’s what grown-ups are for.”

Years. James tries to understand that. He really does. But years don’t _mean_ anything to him. He’d go to sleep and then his last daddy would wake him up and it was three years later, but it felt the same as when he sleeps for a night here.

A year might as well be a second.

\--

“We will take care of you for as long as you need, no matter how long that is. I promise that everyone- Steve, Bucky, Brock. Tony. Pepper. They will all care for you as you need.” He pulls him back for a second and looks him in the eyes. “Besides. You have the bear.”

\--

Winter didn’t want him to have the bear yesterday. James can’t understand it. Everything Winter’s saying sounds right--sounds _perfect_ \--but Bucky was still little when he was grown up, and James knows he hated it. He always felt so embarrassed and upset whenever he wasn’t little. And Tony told James that he could like him better now.

How can they still like him when he’s bigger? They’ll think he’s weird, like Bucky thought he was weird for needing hugs and bears and stories.

Winter’s still looking at him, and James has to look away.

\--

Winter blinks and turns his head to look at Bucky, who shrugs with a worried look, and then to Steve, before turning his attention back to James. He pulls him close again, and shakes his head. “You have to speak if something is wrong. I cannot read your mind anymore.”

\--

James closes his eyes, tears leaking out again, and rests his forehead against Winter. “You won’t want to take care of me anymore,” he says. “When I get too old. Bucky always thought he was gross and wrong and broken for being grown up and wanting the stuff I want. I heard him.”

“James,” Daddy says. “I don’t care how old you are. I was happy to read Bucky stories and play bears. I’ll be happy to do it with you.”

He shakes his head, hair getting staticky from rubbing against Winter’s sweater. “You won’t. You just don’t want me to feel bad.”

\--

“ _I_ didn’t like those things.” Bucky says, and takes a step forward so that James can see him. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t. You- You’re your own person now. If you want to be taken care of, we will. Because it feels comfortable to you.”

\--

“But you won’t like it.” James looks at Bucky, really looks at him, for the first time since Bucky came in. “You just said you don’t like it. You’ll just do it to be nice, and you’ll hate me.” He’s crying again. He didn’t run out of tears after all. “You don’t like me now, ‘cause I don’t want to change. And you won’t like me when I want to play bears or color or read fairy tales.”

\--

“Of course I’ll like you. James, I don’t hate you. I can never hate you. I didn’t hate the things I did- I hated that _I_ was doing them. Because I’m not you. But you like them. And as long as _you’re_ comfortable, I’m happy.”

\--

“But--but--” Nothing makes any sense. James shakes his head. He wants to jump out of Winter’s arms, but he doesn’t know where to go. He wants to hide, but he wants to be held. He wants to scream at Bucky, but he just wants Bucky to like him.

“But you _would_ be doing them,” he says. “And if I never stop liking that stuff, you’ll be doing it for forever.”

\--

“It’s- It’s just different James. Because I’ll be doing it with you. For you. Not for me.” He doesn’t know how to explain it to the child more simply than he already is.

\--

James doesn’t understand. He can feel his forehead scrunch up, but he can’t make sense of it.

“James,” Daddy says. He’s standing up now, and he’s moved next to Winter, one hand held out to pet James’s hair. “It’s okay.”

He shakes his head.

“You know when you watch movies with Tasha?” Daddy asks, and James nods. “And how you take turns picking a movie?”

“Uh-huh?” What do movies have to do with anything? Movies aren’t going to make Bucky like him. He probably doesn’t even watch cartoons now.

“I bet sometimes, when it’s Tasha’s turn, she chooses a movie that isn’t what you’d have picked out, doesn’t she?”

James would always pick _The Little Mermaid_ if he could, so he nods again.

“Are you mad at her when that happens? Do you stop watching the movie?”

James stares, shaking his head. Why would Daddy ask that? That would be awful. Is that how Daddy thinks he acts?

“Why not, if it’s not what you’d pick?”

“I--” He doesn’t know how to put it in words. “She’s my friend.”

“And you like spending time with her?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Even if what she wants to do isn’t what you’d have picked, can’t it still be fun?”

\--

Bucky sags in relief. He wouldn’t have ever thought that _Steve_ would be the emotionally responsible one, but evidently, fatherhood has changed him. Not to mention, it’s almost as if James purposefully misunderstands Bucky on a consistent basis.

“Playing with you the way you want to play, or be cared for, it’s fun. It’s just like the movie.” Bucky says. “And I think everyone here would love to do whatever you wanna do. ‘Cause we love you.”

\--

It still sounds too good to be true. But James is so _tired_ and so sick of being scared and upset. He only got up like an hour ago and he already wants to sleep again. He nods, looking away from Daddy to Bucky.

“I want a hug,” he whispers.

\--

Bucky waits for Steve to make his move before he infringes on their space and hugs as well. Winter finds it appropriate, evidently, to pull all of them back down on the couch to make the hug easier for himself. Bucky huffs and laughs, and even Winter snorts.

Brock stares from the other couch and after letting them have their _moment_ for about a minute, he slowly stands up, stretches, and says, “Alright, now that that bullshit is over, do the super soldiers need a second breakfast, or are we all sorted? Is this was every morning’s gonna be like? ‘Cause I’m gonna need a lot of booze.”

\--

“Brock!” Daddy says, and James doesn’t know if it’s the swearing or the thing about booze that makes him sound all grumpy. James is too busy to care, shifting a little in the hug to tug on Bucky’s sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers when Bucky looks down at him. “For yelling and spitting and being bad.”

\--

“...It’s alright, bug. Least you apologized. You were emotional. I understand how it feels.” He smiles. At least the kid doesn’t hate him anymore. And at least his headache is finally receding.

\--

“You should drink some water, James,” Daddy says. “Or juice or something. Crying dries you out.”

James doesn’t feel dry. His eyes are still hot and wet and his nose is all sniffly. But he nods and says “Juice,” because juice is a hundred times better than water. He’s sure Bucky Bear would agree if he ate anything that wasn’t honey.

“I’ll get you some,” Daddy says, shifting to get up. “Thanks for feeding him, Brock.”

\--

“Anytime. Like I said, pretty sure my breakfast beats yours, since he was _calm_ the entire time.” Brock huffs.

\--

“He was calm because you did everything he told you to,” Daddy says, and James doesn’t understand why he says that like it’s a bad thing. “A calendar, Brock? Really?”

“I needed it,” James protests. He doesn’t really want to get rid of it now anyway; it took a lot of effort. Mostly from the Commander, and it would be mean to throw away all the Commander’s hard work.

\--

“The kid can have his reasons for things! He deserved a little- I mean, I wasn’t gonna sit here and tell him _no_ after the day he had!” He’d be a terrible… Whatever the fuck he’s supposed to be. However the kid sees him. “I mean, at least your kid is stubborn. That’s a good thing, okay.”

\--

Daddy just shakes his head.

“It was fun making it,” James protests. “And the Commander’s really good at cutting straight lines and counting to over a hundred and stuff! I can’t do that.” And he probably wouldn’t be allowed to use scissors even if he still had two hands. Definitely not the scissors the Commander used, anyway. They were too big.

“We used all different colors of construction paper,” he adds. “It looks really good.”

\--

Brock nods and gives a pointed look to Steve. “Over one hundred, Steve. You heard it here. It was important.” Better to jokingly piss Steve off than admit he pretty much helped start this latest meltdown of James.

\--

“I’m sure it’s very impressive,” Daddy says, but he rolls his eyes. James thinks that’s rude, but he’s too sleepy from the crying earlier to say anything about it. “James, honey, I think Brock would like it better if you called him Brock, don’t you?”

“But he’s the Commander,” James says. That’s always been his name.

\--

“Calling him by his first name would be informal and inappropriate.” Winter says. The others can call him what they wish, but Winter? James? It wouldn’t be appropriate.

Brock is quiet, just watching them as they discuss it. It doesn’t help much.

\--

“James isn’t going on missions,” Daddy says, turning to Winter. “This is an informal situation, isn’t it? Just living together? Brock isn’t commanding James.”

“He still does, though,” James protests. “This morning he made breakfast and then he told me to eat it and then I did. He’s still the Commander.”

\--

“The Commander still holds authority over us. It’s important to maintain appropriate titles.” Winter looks slightly confused, though. He’s never thought about his relationship with the Commander too closely.

The look of confusion only deepens when Brock says, “Those weren’t _commands_ , James. I’m no commander, anymore.” He’s got that look on his face that he often gets when he’s trying not to look guilty, or sad.

\--

“But you are,” James says. He doesn’t understand why the Commander looks unhappy. It’s not like he gives bad orders, the way he used to with Hydra. He just makes sure that James eats breakfast or doesn’t get up too early and other important stuff like that. He keeps James and everybody else safe. Why wouldn’t he like being reminded of that?

“You’re really good at it,” he adds. Maybe that will cheer him up.

\--

Brock shakes his head. “Being the Commander is a job. I don’t have that job anymore. I’m just… Brock, now.” Or Rumlow, if Steve decides he’s pissed that day.

\--

“We can think of another name,” Daddy adds. He says it fast, looking at Winter, probably expecting Winter to say that first names are inappropriate again. “Just...something nicer than Commander. More fitting?”

But ‘Commander’ is fitting. James tries not to sigh. His head still hurts from the last fight, and he decides that he’s not going to argue. “He’s the Commander,” James says. “Daddy, you didn’t get me any juice yet.”

Daddy sighs and walks toward the refrigerator. He gives Bucky a _look_ , like it’s Bucky’s fault James wants to call the Commander by his right name.

\--

“There’s all sorts of names that’ll work for Rumlow. But it’s not good to call him the name he had when he was Hydra, right?” Bucky removes himself from the tangle that _was_ the happy-go-lucky hug a few seconds ago. Winter still looks ridiculously confused, in a cute way- he’s pouting, though he’d never admit to it. “Like, say, his name. Or a nickname. Anything you want. As long as Rumlow agrees to it.”

\--

“ _Komandir_ ,” James says. It’s Russian for Commander, and he’s surprised that he remembers it.

“Pick me up,” he adds, reaching his hand out to Bucky.

\--

“I’m not as fluent as Winter is, James,” Bucky says as he slowly scoops the kid up. It’s still a little awkward because he doesn’t have another arm to brace himself against the kid’s weight, but he’ll get there. It’ll be comfortable eventually. “But I’m not an idiot, either. I’m pretty sure calling him Commander in Russian is even _less_ appropriate.”

Winter huffs and shakes his head. “It is just a language, Bucky.”

\--

“ _Kommandant_ ,” James says. Maybe Bucky won’t speak German. James hopes so, because it’s the only other language he can really remember, and it’s not like James can ask Jarvis for other words while Bucky’s right there.

“That’s the same thing, James,” Daddy says. He hands James a juice box, and James pouts around the straw. Bucky probably wouldn’t have known that.

\--

“No Commander. Not in any language. _Especially_ not Russian _or_ German, bug. He deserves a new name. He’s a different man now.” Bucky rolls his eyes, then gives a silencing glare to Winter, who looks as though he’s about to speak. If Bucky knows Winter, it was probably to say _Commander_ in another language.

\--

James doesn’t answer for a minute, drinking his juice and trying to look like he might die if he doesn’t get to call the Commander by his right name. He doesn’t think it works, because nobody starts apologizing and saying he can do whatever he wants.

He considers trying to look intimidating, but he doesn’t thinks that works when he’s so small.

“But Winter’s right,” he says. “Brock doesn’t work either. What else are we supposed to call you?”

Maybe Brock won’t have an answer. Then he can go back to what he knows, right?

\--

Brock opens his mouth to speak and then shuts it, before shrugging and looking to Steve. He doesn’t fucking know- The Commander was uncomfortable but familiar. Evidently Brock is too much for both Winter and James, though, so what the fuck else is there?

\--

“We’ll...think of something,” Daddy says slowly. “James, maybe you can--” But then he pauses, and his face goes kind of pink before he shakes his head. “We’ll think of something.”

James isn’t very impressed by Daddy’s improvisation. He hopes Daddy’s better at coming up with ideas in the field. He slurps up what’s left of the juice and just stares, waiting.

“You know what?” Daddy asks. “We’ve done way too much thinking this morning already. What does everyone want for lunch?”

“That’s more thinking,” James points out.

\--

Brock gives Steve a curious look, his mouth curling up into a small smile. It’s not much that gets Steve to blush- He’ll have to ask what the hell that was about later. “I suggest takeout. Because I’m not cleaning my fucking kitchen again.”

\--

“That works for me,” Daddy says, taking the empty juice box from James. “Is everybody okay with Chinese?”

“I can’t use chopsticks!” Sure, it only takes one hand to hold them, but James’s hand is really small now. And he feels like it doesn’t move as well as it used to.

“That’s okay,” Daddy says. “You can use a fork.”

“It doesn’t taste the same then.” James pouts, but Daddy just smiles.

“Hey,” he says, giving James’s hand a squeeze. “What are you going to do with your calendar, lamb?”

\--

Winter perks up at the mention of James’ lack of dexterity. “If you have troubles, I can feed you, Mishka.”

Bucky huffs again, and shakes his head. “Are you still going to use the calendar? What is it even _for_?”

\--

James wrinkles his nose at Winter. “I’m not a _bird_.”

He shifts in Bucky’s hold when Bucky asks about the calendar, trying to hide his face. He doesn’t want to make anybody mad when he just got them to like him again. “Tony said after I’d been five for a year, he’d make me five again,” he mutters. “So that was for a year. Maybe...maybe it can count the days until my birthday instead.”

And maybe he’ll still want to be five in a year. He figures he should keep his options open.

“James, you already have a birthday,” Daddy says. “The numbers on your calendar won’t be right.”

James just huffs. He doesn’t want to _share_ it.

\--

Bucky hums. “Technically, it _could_ be his birthday. I mean, it was the day he, as his own body, was born. Right?” Because clearly the kid wants to keep this stupid calendar and doesn’t want to waste Brock’s time making it.

\--

“But yesterday was the day Winter got a body too,” James says, frowning. That would still mean he has to share a birthday.

“We don’t have to figure out what to do with your calendar right away,” Daddy says. “Maybe we can come up with ideas after lunch?”

“We can’t get rid of it!” James reaches out, almost falling out of Bucky’s grip, to grab Daddy’s sleeve. “The Commander worked really hard and all the loops of paper go from red to orange to yellow to green to blue to purple like a rainbow, over and over again, and the Commander counted to over a hundred and we have to keep it!”

“James,” Daddy says. He’s smiling, even though James still said ‘Commander.’ “We’re going to keep your calendar. Promise.”

\--

Bucky snorts and works to keep his balance. It’s hard enough with an unequal division of weight on his body, let alone the added weight of James flailing around. “It _is_ a pretty calendar. You did good on it, kiddo. Were the colors your idea?”

\--

“Yep.” The Commander had wanted to do all red, probably because it was the first color in the stack of construction paper. But James like rainbows more. He wonders if Winter likes rainbows, or Bucky. Or maybe he got it from both of them.

“You can hold me,” he tells Winter, because Winter hasn’t said anything since James told Winter that he doesn’t need to be fed like a baby bird, and maybe that made Winter sad.

\--

“I’m guessing that’s my cue to put you down.” Bucky says, and hands the kid off to Winter, who takes him immediately. The care and look in Winter’s eyes whenever he takes hold of James is wonderful, and Bucky can’t help but smile. Winter truly cares for the kid, and cares to be soft and gentle.

\--

The only problem, James decides, with being so little is that there isn’t enough of him for both Bucky and Winter to hold at once, not really. And definitely not enough of him for Daddy and the Commander to join in as well.

Still, it is nice to be able to snuggle up to Winter and be completely covered up and protected in his arms. And to be able to hide under his sweater, if he needs to.

“We still have to put a Bucky Bear mask on the bear on my sweater,” he says.

\--

“Yes. We will do that as soon as we find someone who can sew.” Winter says and gives one of his small smiles.

Bucky says “Me ‘n Steve can do it. It’s not hard. We’ll get to it eventually. Maybe put that on the ‘after lunch’ schedule.”

\--

“Somebody’s going to have to go see Tony after lunch,” Daddy says. He’s rummaging through one of the drawers in the Commander’s kitchen, setting takeout menus on the counter. The Commander mostly orders food; James doesn’t usually see him making things that aren’t pancakes.

“Why?” James asks. His eyes feel heavy. Maybe he can just shut them until lunch gets here. That’s the other problem with being little. Why does he get tired faster when there’s so much less of him to need to sleep?

“So we can tell Tony he won’t have to work on a machine to make you five,” Daddy says.

“Well.” James rests his head on Winter’s chest. “Maybe.”

\--

“Maybe means that he can at least put it off until you’re sure.” Bucky says. He goes over to Steve to look through the menus with him, tossing a few away from the pile immediately. He’s a picky bastard. “I’ll let him know. I, uh, kinda goaded him into being the one to talk to James yesterday, anyways.”

\--

“Okay,” Daddy says. “James, what would you like to eat?”

“Fortune cookies.”

His eyes are mostly shut, but he can still tell that Daddy’s smiling. It’s almost like he hears it. “What else besides fortune cookies, James?”

“Fried rice,” he says. “And egg rolls.” He doesn’t even need chopsticks or a fork for the rolls. Except maybe he does. His hand is pretty little now.

\--

“Thank god Tony’s a rich bastard. Ordering out Chinese for all of us all the time has got to be a fortune.” Bucky mutters to himself as he looks through the menu. He’s glad the meltdown is over, to the point that James can ask for fortune cookies for lunch. That’s gotta be a good thing.

And hopefully after talking to Tony, he can stop this machine nonsense for once and for all.

\--

“It’ll be even worse now that there’s three super soldiers instead of two,” Daddy says. “James, what do you want to drink?”

“Juice.” He yawns, trying to pull Winter’s sweater over his eyes without actually lifting his head up. “Wake me up when it gets here.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check us out on Tumblr: [Lauralot](http://lauralot89.tumblr.com) and [ravenously.](http://buckycurtis.tumblr.com)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [A Swarm Of Bunnies](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5185913) by [WhatEvenAmI](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatEvenAmI/pseuds/WhatEvenAmI)




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